Big Ducks on Campus
by GrownUp90s
Summary: [Adam's Odyssey 4/4] It's junior year for the Ducks, and they no longer find themselves on the social fringe at Eden Hall. But between a gossipy school newspaper, a fiercely competitive hockey division, and team squabbling, Adam will be called upon to lead like never before; and he can ill-afford weakness when Julie receives devastating news from home.
1. Meet the Press

**Author's Note:** greetings, my fellow MD travelers! So I've decided that I loved my Adam's Odyssey trilogy so much that I'd turn it into a tetralogy! I was intrigued by the idea of the Ducks, those eternal underdogs, actually being in a position of superiority, with all the problems that come with being on top. This takes place during their junior year at Eden Hall (1998-1999), and it relies on the world that I have built in _Us Against the World, Summer of '97,_ and _Breaking Up the Flock._

So be sure to read those stories, if you haven't already; I'll know if you skipped ahead :p

Anyway, happy reading – and as always, feedback (positive, negative...but hopefully not neutral) is greatly appreciated!

-Matt

* * *

 **Chapter One: Meet the Press**

Josh Woodward shifted in the bleachers at Eden Hall Arena. The wiry, immaculately-dressed junior with blond hair was on assignment for the school newspaper, the _Eden Hall Gazette,_ and was due to interview the new captains of the Varsity and JV hockey teams.

 _No wonder the crowd spends so much time on its feet,_ he mused, shifting yet again on the rock-hard bench. With its leather upholstery and thick padding, his announcer's chair was considerably more comfortable. He briefly considered heading upstairs to the booth and conducting his interviews there, but decided against it.

 _They'll only stand me up if they don't see me._

Even at the tender age of sixteen, his journalistic instincts were already keen.

He took another look at his notes. It simply would not do to look at his notebook for questions, so he took care to memorize them ahead of time. That was when he sensed a presence. He smelled it before he saw it.

"Ah, Mr. Woodward," Stacy Andersen greeted him. "How goes it?"

Josh turned to see his editor-in-chief approach.

Short, brown-eyed, bespectacled, and with a bit of a muffin top, Stacy Andersen was not the tall, trim Nordic beauty that people expected her to be; so she overcompensated with gallons of strong perfume. Now a senior, she had achieved her social standing through the only path that was available to a girl like her: the school newspaper. As Editor-in-Chief of the _Gazette,_ the reputations of Eden Hall's students were mere playthings to her. As result, there was never any shortage of obsequious boys willing to date her, nor of party invitations from the Beautiful People.

"Stacy," Josh nodded. "What can I do for you?"

"I'm so glad you asked," she beamed. "I just wanted to pass this along; it's a set of questions for your interview with the hockey captains."

 _I've already got the questions. Mind your own damn business,_ Josh thought. "Let's have a look-see."

He took the outstretched sheet of pink index paper and looked it over.

 _Who are you dating? If you're single, what qualities do you look for a in a girl? Coach Bombay has left you guys before, do you really think he's in it for the long haul? Do you really think he's willing to play second-fiddle to Coach Orion?_

These and other questions were needlessly personal and had nothing to do with hockey – though Josh figured that the Bombay questions were at least relevant, if in poor taste.

"Thanks, Stacy," he slid the paper into his pocket. "These should really grab our readers' attention."

"That they should," Stacy agreed. "And Josh – take care not to lose your tape. I'm gonna need you to turn it in with your write-up. It would really be a shame if I lost such a great reporter because he kept losing his tapes."

Josh nodded again. His editor did not need to make the threat to his job so explicit, but he took it in stride. Stacy was determined to have her intrusive questions asked, and if Josh failed to ask them, his insubordination would be caught on tape. Though they risked alienating Josh from the captains whose teams he had to cover, he trusted his ability to soften these pointed questions.

"You'll get your tape," he assured Stacy.

"Splendid!"

Upon hearing the heavy door from the locker rooms open, she got to her feet.

"That'll be the guys," she reasoned. "Well, I'll leave you to it. Best foot forward, Josh!"

"Yep, yep, yep."

Stacy departed, leaving a pungent scent in her wake. Tough she had left, her smell remained. It was as though she had within her power the ability to be in multiple places at the same time.

 _Just keep your head down and get through this year with that bovine bitch, Joshy-boy. Then, the_ Gazette _will be all yours._

Four hockey players emerged from the tunnel and looked up into the stands.

"Up here, fellas!" Josh beckoned them.

"Whew, that's some cologne you've got on, Josh!" Charlie Conway waved a hand in front of his nose. "What is that, Victoria's Secret?"

"Heh, witty as always, Charlie," Josh grinned, switching his tape recorder on. "Have a seat, guys. Make yourselves comfortable."

Charlie took a seat on the bench in front of Josh, and the other three surrounded the hockey reporter. In addition to Charlie, captain of the Varsity team, Adam Banks and Fulton Reed served as alternate captains on Varsity. Les Averman, the lone Duck still on JV, was chosen by Gordon Bombay to lead the youthful squad, and had been delegated the responsibility for choosing any alternates.

"First of all, congratulations on being named captains," Josh offered. "So, Charlie, let's start with you. What did you see in Adam and Fulton that led you to appoint them as alternates?"

"Well, making Fulton an alternate was actually Banksie's idea," Charlie revealed. "But I agreed to it right away. Fulton's been the emotional anchor of the Ducks since the beginning. He was even the first one to embrace the name 'Duck' when Bombay presented it to us way back when.

"And as far as Adam goes, he's our best player…well, maybe our _second_ best. There's no denying that his gallant, handsome captain is da bomb."

Josh made a note of Adam's eyeroll. It was exactly the sort of gossipy little detail that his editor would appreciate.

"Talent doesn't always equal leadership, though," Josh pointed out. "You're sure that Adam has it?"

"Yes," Charlie answered flatly.

When he refused to dignify that question with a long answer, his friends all laughed.

"Care to elaborate?" Josh asked.

"No."

More laughter at Josh's expense. Now he was actually tempted to ask some of Stacy's barbs.

"I wanna get Fulton's take on this as well, but Adam, let's start with you," Josh began. "Charlie walked out on his team as a freshman, then he got demoted to the second line during his sophomore year. Do you _really_ trust him to lead you guys going forward?"

"Why, you son of a…" Charlie got to his feet, prompting the others to rise, and for Fulton to restrain him.

"Next question," Adam declared. "And don't be a dick about it, or we walk."

"My apologies, guys," Josh offered, motioning for the players to resume their seats, which they did. "Les, let's talk about JV…"

For the next several minutes, Josh proceeded to lob softball after softball at Les Averman, who batted them away quite easily. No, he wasn't upset about being left on JV; yes, he was proud to be leading the freshman squad; no, he didn't doubt the 'Duckness' of the newbies; etc. Josh then got into the meat of the hockey material, peppering the guys with questions about Eden Hall's archrival the Blake School, and asking Varsity how confident it was that it would return to the playoffs after last year's dismal season.

Boilerplate questions that yielded boilerplate answers.

"Now, please bear with me, fellas – but you'll appreciate that a large portion of your fan base is female…"

"Oh, boy," Fulton winced.

"…so please, indulge them," Josh continued. "Let's talk about your dating situations."

"Happily attached to Linda Tompkins," Charlie declared.

"In a relationship with Julie Gaffney," Adam added.

"Uh, single, actually," Fulton revealed.

"Really?" Josh asked. "And what is Fulton Reed looking for in a woman?"

The lumbering Varsity defenseman shrugged. With his powerful build, black, shoulder-length hair, and intimidatingly quiet demeanor, Fulton Reed gave every impression of a tough, manly man. He, along with Dean Portman, was a formidable Bash Brother, after all.

"I don't really know," he confessed. "I guess I'll just know the right one when I see her."

"That's cool," Josh nodded, before turning to Averman. "Les?"

Averman's own sexuality was an uncomfortable secret that only he, Greg Goldberg, and a handful of last year's Varsity squad knew about. With the graduation of Zach Henderson and his goons, that left only Goldberg. And that secret had, in effect, cost Averman his friendship with his longtime teammate.

Averman was deep enough in the closet to find Christmas presents, and he intended to keep it that way.

"I'm single," he breezily declared. "And any girl who digs a goofy guy with glasses is welcome to gimme a call."

"Great," Josh nodded. "Let's turn to the coaching situation…"

The four captains fielded questions about Gordon Bombay's history and his future, expressing confidence that he would indeed be around for the long haul, and who, along with Ted Orion, would restore the hockey program to its full glory.

"Thanks so much, guys!" Josh smiled. "And good luck this season – quack, quack!"

"Heh, quack, indeed. Quack, indeed," Charlie nodded before departing with his co-captains.

Josh shook his head in frustration as he switched off his tape recorder. He had precious few juicy tidbits, and though he had found tactful ways to ask tactless questions, they yielded no bombshells.

But he knew that would not stop his editor from creating them.

* * *

Julie Gaffney let out a loud yawn as she stretched in the front passenger seat of Adam's Range Rover. Adam gave his girlfriend a quick glance from the driver's seat and couldn't help but smile. But then, he had done quite a bit of smiling as of late. A weekend with Julie all to himself at his family's cabin on the lake was hard not to smile about.

"Am I gonna have to carry you to bed when we get there?" He teased.

"Could you _not_ think about getting me in bed, just for _one second?"_ She teased back.

"Only with great difficulty."

"Perv," she smacked his arm with a laugh.

"Hey – easy there," he said. "I'm driving. And I'll love you even if you're comatose, but I'd rather not be in a wheelchair when I visit you at the hospital."

She knew that he was only kidding, but she cringed anyway. "God, you're morbid, Adam."

"Sorry. I inherited my dad's sense of humor."

"You mean Philip actually _has_ one?"

"Incredibly, yes," Adam chortled. "It's darker than the bottom of a well, but it's there."

"Well, let's just hope that you didn't inherit his hairline as well."

"Hey!"

"Sorry," Julie smiled sweetly. "You know how much I love your mane. And I'm pretty sure that the baldness gene is carried by mothers, not fathers."

Adam tried to pout, but Julie's smile made that impossible. So he surrendered to the smile that she was making him feel.

"Give me your hand," she ordered him.

Her boyfriend was very much a two-handed driver, but he acquiesced, keeping his left on the steering wheel while offering her his right.

She took his mitt into her silky hands, gave his knuckles a kiss, then brought it to rest on her thigh. He perked right up upon feeling her firm, velvety leg – still bronzed by the summer sun. Instinctively, he wanted a hand to cover the growing evidence of his attraction; but he needed one to steer, and the other was sandwiched between Julie's hand and thigh.

He could feel a blush coming on, and Julie giggled at that. _He's just way too cute._

"Tell me about the cabin."

"The cabin? Oh, right – the cabin…"

She loved getting him flustered. It made her feel like the most beautiful girl in the world.

"Well, it's a cabin," Adam explained. "And it's made of wood. And it's by a lake."

"Fascinating," Julie giggled. "Tell me more."

"Well, it's got one of those singing fishes in the living room…"

"Of course."

"…and there's a deck in the backyard. Then the lake. Oh, and there's a dock on the lake."

"Your powers of setting could give my mom a run for her money," Julie teased. "Oh, that reminds me – I wanna leave a copy of her book at the cabin; y'know, to leave my mark. Think your parents will notice?"

"Doubt it," Adam shrugged. "I'm pretty sure my dad hasn't read an actual book since college. Just legal briefs. And Mother, heh, Mother doesn't really _do_ lake cabins. Too rustic for her."

"So we won't be disturbed."

"That, we will not be. Dad's in New York, and Mother wouldn't go to the cabin even if you paid her."

"Good," Julie squeezed his hand.

"And of course, no Ducks, either," he pointed out.

With the arrival of junior year, the Ducks had taken to the road – literally. Eden Hall allowed juniors and seniors to park on campus, and the ability to get out and explore the world ensured that their time spent on school grounds would be greatly reduced – an irony, given the fact that the Ducks were set to become the big men (and women) on campus. The last of the remaining Varsity bullies had graduated that June, and that left the Ducks at the top of the social heap.

"Oh, there's the lake," Adam observed. "It won't be long now."

* * *

Averman heard a knock at his door, and got up from his desk.

"Ah, Linda," he greeted his visitor. "How goes it?"

"Fine, Les," Linda Tompkins nodded shortly. "Is Charlie in there?"

"I sure am."

The Varsity captain had been laying recumbent on his dorm bed, watching TV, and got up to greet his girlfriend with a peck on the cheek.

"I can leave if you guys want the place to yourselves," Averman offered.

"Oh, that's quite alright, Les," Linda replied. "This is a business visit, not a romantic one."

"Ah," Charlie said. "Well, have a seat, then."

Linda did a quick scan of her tidy surroundings before taking a seat at Charlie's desk. First Guy Germaine, then Adam Banks, and now Les Averman, Charlie had gone through three roommates in as many years. No doubt it behooved him as captain to spread his wings and develop close relationships with as many of his fellow Ducks as possible; but Linda could not deny that Charlie was something of an acquired taste.

 _Still, this looks like a good roommate match,_ she thought. _At least Les is neat._

"So, what's up?" Charlie asked.

"This," Linda reached into her backpack and retrieved a stack of documents held together by a paperclip. "My source at the _Gazette_ leaked me a copy of their next edition. It's very bad."

"Oh?"

Charlie took the documents and examined them with some concern. Linda was running for Student Council President and could ill-afford bad publicity. Given that she belonged to no clique and lacked the seniority advantage of her opponents, any negative stories in the _Gazette_ about Linda or her friends on the Ducks – regardless of their veracity – risked torpedoing her candidacy.

Charlie did not have to look far to discover the offending article.

 _ **CONSPIRACY IN THE MAKING?**_ The headline ominously asked.

 **Adam Banks Puts Pal in Position to Help Push Charlie Conway Out,** read the subheading.

The article went on to explain how Adam Banks had gotten Fulton Reed to be named an alternate captain for the Varsity team. It went on to claim that Adam had used this appointment to position himself for a takeover of the team. The article then gave a brief history of Charlie's trials and tribulations at Eden Hall, the implication being that he was a dead man walking.

Furious, he crumbled the papers into a ball.

"That little punk, Josh. Well, he just lost his access to the Varsity team. That's for _damn_ sure. Averman, I trust that the little pipsqueak won't have any dealings with JV, either?"

"No way, man," Averman agreed. "No sense in doing interviews for him if he's only gonna write shit about us."

"In the meantime," Linda spoke up, "We're gonna have to do something about Adam."

Charlie looked at her incredulously. "Linda, this article is nothing but lies and innuendo. Adam's not about to launch some kinda coup against me."

"Probably not. But we need to get him on message. He needs to know about this bomb before it goes off. Controlled detonation, that's the name of the game."

"Right," Charlie nodded. "I better give him a call."

* * *

After unpacking and transferring the groceries from the cooler to the refrigerator, Julie and Adam made their way to the cabin's lakeside backyard. Though the trees that ringed the lake were mostly green, a bit of autumnal amber was creeping into the scenery, and the burning bushes around the cabin were beginning to show hints of scarlet.

"Wow, what a great spot!" Julie enthused.

"Yeah," Adam nodded. "I like it even better in the winter. You can skate for miles across this lake. Much quieter and more open than the arena."

Julie shuddered at that. "I could never skate over a lake. I'd be _way_ too scared about the ice cracking, and then going under."

Adam shrugged. "You can't live life without taking risks."

Julie smiled at her boyfriend's casual bravado. "Say, could you do my back?" She asked, sliding out of her T-shirt and revealing a skimpy white bikini top that looked a size too small.

Adam squeezed the tube of sun tan lotion that he had been holding, causing a stream of white goop to go flying in ecstasy.

"Huh-huh, sure."

 _Heh, Mr. Tough Guy, indeed_.

After sliding out of her denim cutoffs, Julie placed a beach towel across the grass and went prone before undoing her bikini strings – leaving a bare, lightly bronzed back for Adam's care and attention.

 _Right, here we go,_ he thought, rubbing a dollop of lotion into his hands before crouching down and getting to work.

Julie's lips pressed into a smile as she felt the familiar combination of strength and gentleness that was Adam Banks. It went without saying that she expected the lotion to be massaged into her skin, and he readily obliged, allowing her to direct him to her points of tension, while he did his best to provide relief.

"Mmmm, Adam."

"That better?"

"God, yes!"

His grin betrayed a hint of brashness as he hunched closer to her. He continued to caress her shoulders as he brought his face down to the side of hers. Adam had hardly even gotten into position when Julie seized him by the back of his head and stole a hungry kiss.

For a split second, he feared she would devour him, but as he returned her intensity, she quivered and submitted – allowing him to flip her onto her back as his thick, greedy lips worked their way down her neck and toward her chest.

She had forgotten all about her undone straps, until he brushed away her top and began to nuzzle. That was when she pushed him away.

His intense sapphire eyes betrayed a flick of anger before giving way to contrition.

"Sorry, Julie," he said softly.

Rather than accept his apology, Julie grasped the bottom of Adam's T-shirt and lifted it over his head – exposing his taut chest and stomach.

"You're forgiven," she offered coquettishly.

And with that, she pinned him to the towel and got to work on his own chest. He appeared to have gotten even taller and stronger over the summer, and she intended to savor him. The pair of teenage lovers forgot themselves completely – not that they needed to worry about prying eyes. The cabin was surrounded by dense foliage, and the few boats on the water that day were miles away.

Once the pair was spent, they cooled off in the glistening sapphire waters of Lake Belle Taine before heading indoors. The interior of the Banks Family's cabin was spacious, but somewhat spartan – well short of their richly-furnished mansion in Edina.

 _No wonder Charlotte doesn't 'do' lake cabins,_ Julie thought of Adam's queenly mother.

But the cabin was plenty comfortable for the girl from Bangor, and best of all, it had a surprisingly well-appointed bookcase.

 _Perfect,_ Julie tucked her mother's tome into the center shelf, the name GAFFNEY plain for all to see.

"Adam, what are you gonna cook for me?" She called from the living room.

" _We_ are gonna make a pizza. Together."

"That doesn't sound so complicated," Julie replied, moving yo join him.

"It isn't, but I'm gonna use the grill to cook it."

Julie cocked an eyebrow. "Now this I gotta see."

Far from heating a frozen pizza in the oven, Adam was going to make one from scratch. He had already prepared and frozen the dough before heading north. Now it was just a matter of browning the dough, then adding the sauce, cheese, and toppings.

"Watch, and learn."

Julie watched as Adam dumped a pile of charcoal into a kettle grill, doused it with lighter fluid, and lit a match.

"Fee-fi-fo-fum," he intoned, pouring even more lighter fluid onto the coals and creating a massive, terrifying flame.

"Adam!"

"Heh, we've _got_ to work on your trust issues."

Eventually, the flame settled down, and Adam got to work. It didn't take long to turn the cold white dough into warm brown goodness; and once the dough was cooked, he led Julie back into the kitchen.

"Phase Two: Toppings," he announced.

Their pizza took its shape as the young couple applied sauce, cheese, and an assortment of toppings before Adam handed Julie the massive pizza paddle.

"Care to do the honors?"

Julie nodded and took the paddle as Adam got the door. She slid the pizza onto the grate and left it to cook. When it was done, Julie scooped it onto the paddle and carried it back inside while Adam retrieved a bottle of merlot that he had smuggled out of his parents' wine cellar – opening it with the cork screw on his trusty, ever-present Swiss Army knife.

The young couple was enjoying a candlelit dinner when Adam heard his cellphone go off in the bedroom.

 _Go. Away._

It eventually went through its complete cycle, only to start ringing again.

"Shouldn't you get that?" Julie asked.

"Right," Adam grunted as he stood up.

He lumbered across the cedar planks of the cabin, somewhat buzzed from the wine, and approached his spiffy new MicroTac 8200 with every intention of chucking it into the lake. But he restrained himself long enough to answer it.

"Uh, hello?"

"Ah, Banksie!" Came Charlie's voice on the other end.

Adam grunted again.

"We have a problem, Adam."

"Yeah, no shit, Conway!"

"I've been trying to get ahold of you all day."

"Yeah, well you shoulda tried the lake."

"You're at the lake?" Charlie asked. "Are you gonna be there all weekend? I could drive up there…"

"Charlie, if you drive up here, _I swear to God_ it'll be the last thing that you _ever_ do. Now, what. Do. You. Want?"

"Linda got hold of the next issue of the _Gazette,_ " Charlie announced. "It's leading with a story about you plotting with Fulton to push me out as captain…"

Adam let out a loud sigh. Although the wine made him better equipped to deal with Charlie's dumb drama, he simply was not in the mood.

"Good night, Charlie."

He took care to turn the power off on his phone before tossing it back onto the dresser.

"Charlie being dramatic?" Julie asked as Adam returned to the kitchen.

"And I thought I had a reprieve this year. I figured that Averman would be the one stuck holding Conway's hand."

Julie stood up and closed the distance, draping her arms around Adam's neck.

"Forget about all that," she admonished with a kiss. "It's time for bed, anyway."

Back at Eden Hall, Charlie slammed the telephone receiver into its cradle on his desk.

"I can't believe Banks actually hung up on me."

Averman looked over to see a smoldering Charlie Conway.

"Really? Charlie, Adam is spending a weekend at the lake. With Julie. I never thought _I'd_ be the one to have to explain the birds-and-the-bees to you, but…"

"Averman, this is serious!"

"Sorry."

"Do you think I should drive up there?"

Averman got to his feet and walked over to his roommate, then gently placed a hand on Charlie's shoulder.

"Charlie, there's much about this world that I don't understand, but one thing I _do_ understand? If you go and see Adam at the lake this weekend, Adam will go and see to it that you're laying at the bottom of it…with an anchor tied to your waist."

" _Damn,_ Averman."

"I only say that because I love you," Averman explained with a playful pat. "Now relax, enjoy your weekend, and don't worry about Monday. Nobody reads that disgusting rag, anyway."

Charlie let out a sigh. "Whatever you say, man."


	2. Manic Monday

**Chapter Two: Manic Monday**

 _Eden Hall Gazette, September 14, 1998_

 **CONSPIRACY IN THE MAKING?**

 **Adam Banks Puts Pal in Position to Help Push Charlie Conway Out**

By: Josh Woodward, Sports Reporter

Hockey season is still a month away, but already there is no shortage of drama for the boys (and girls) in purple-and-teal. Charlie Conway is the new captain of the revamped Varsity squad, but he may not be all that secure on his throne. With Duck MVP Adam Banks in position as an alternate, a pretender to the throne could easily replace the mercurial king if he proves unreliable.

To make matters worse for the Duck captain, Conway was forced to agree to Banks' proposal to make Fulton Reed the second alternate.

The Varsity hockey team is coming off its worst season in over twenty years, and if all the new blood can't turn this team around, things could get very ugly, very quickly.

Fans of Eden Hall hockey will recall Conway's highly visible spat with then-JV Coach Orion, which resulted in the longtime Duck leaving his team. Conway eventually returned, and helped lead his JV squad to a stunning upset victory over Varsity; but the good times didn't last. Hampered by mediocre play and team disaffection with his leadership, Conway was demoted to the second line as a sophomore, and was widely seen as captain-in-name-only to a JV squad that went on to win the State Finals.

But fans of the program can take heart in the fact that they have a leader who will be ready to answer the call, should the need arise.

The entire story of Adam Banks' career in youth hockey has been a story of overcoming adversity while coolly meeting near-impossible expectations. Not only does Banks have the talent, the pedigree, the hockey IQ, and the strength of personality to lead, he also enjoys strong relationships throughout the Duck roster. In addition to having his ally Reed as a fellow alternate, Banks is in a serious relationship with goaltender Julie 'the Cat' Gaffney, and has played with the core of the Duck roster since their Pee Wee days.

While it remains unclear if Banks is in fact planning a move, he is superbly positioned to take the helm if Charlie Conway finds the waters of Varsity's rebuilding process too treacherous to navigate.

Conway is currently seeing Linda Tompkins, a candidate for Student Council President.

* * *

"It's unbelievable, the shit they print," Charlie fumed, crumpling into a ball one of the innumerable copies of the _Gazette_ that was strewn about the dining hall. "I mean, isn't there like a faculty advisor? You know, somebody to say 'This is trash, you can't print it'?"

"Yeah, that senile old fossil Dr. Wittner," Linda answered. "He's the paper's advisor. And I'm pretty sure he hasn't known what year it is since pens stopped having feathers. So yes, they really _can_ print trash."

"And why that little tag at the end about you running for SC President?" Charlie asked. "Why would hockey fans find that even remotely interesting?"

Linda's eyes narrowed.

"I mean, _everybody_ should take a healthy interest in student government," Charlie clarified. "But what's that stuff doing in the sports section?"

"It's the editor, Stacy. She knows that I want to change things, and she can't allow that, so she puts a hit piece out on my boyfriend in the hopes that it'll damage me too."

"That bitch."

"Whoa, easy there, Conway," Adam said, setting his tray down opposite Charlie. "What seems to be the problem, here?"

"And you!" Charlie snapped. "I had a serious problem over the weekend, and you hung up on me! Are you _trying_ to make me lose my shit or something?"

"I beg your pardon?"

Charlie grabbed a fresh copy of the _Gazette_ and slid it across the table.

"Ring any bells?" He asked.

Adam had, in fact, forgotten about Charlie's little meltdown over the article that the _Gazette_ was preparing to print. As he read the outrageous headline and subheading, Adam felt his stomach turn.

"You don't really believe this, do you?"

"I _believe_ I am the captain, and I _believe_ I made you an alternate captain because the team needs your leadership. So next time I call with a problem facing the team, try and do a little better than just saying goodnight and hanging up on me."

"I'm sorry, Charlie. I will."

"Hey, guys!" Came Julie's perky voice.

As the goalie set her tray down next to Adam, Charlie took in the sight of the hockey power couple that was sitting opposite himself. Even if Josh's article had been nothing but rumor-peddling, it contained a few kernels of truth. Among them was the strength of Adam and Julie's relationship. It had been a very long time coming, but once Julie and Adam officially became an item, there could be no denying their closeness.

Charlie had no doubt that if Adam _did_ end up making a play against him, Adam would enjoy the full support of Julie as he knifed Charlie in the back.

"Hey, Catwoman," Adam grinned.

Julie rolled her eyes, but giggled. "I guess I'll take that over 'Cat lady'. Hey Charlie, hey Linda. What's up?"

"Oh, you know," Charlie shrugged. "The usual. Boring teachers, corrupt prefects, brain-dead football players, and a generous helping of character assassination. That's all for now. But it's early."

"Yeah, I heard about that article," Julie said softly. "You know we've all got your back, Charlie. But still, it's gotta suck being gossiped about."

"You were in that article too," Charlie pointed out.

"Only to be mentioned as Adam's girlfriend. So it wasn't _all_ BS."

Before Charlie could respond, Linda spoke up. "Well, I gotta go do a bit of campaigning, so please excuse me."

Charlie leaned in to kiss her cheek, but Linda was already up and out of her seat. As she began working the dining hall, he couldn't shake a sudden feeling of loneliness. He wondered how his girlfriend would address the hit piece in the _Gazette_ to other students, and for a moment, considered joining her.

 _Nah, that wouldn't be a good look for her,_ he decided.

He then began to wonder if she needed him at all, and he even began to wonder if _his team_ needed him while Perfect Adam Banks stood by, ready to be captain at a moment's notice.

* * *

"So this is where I leave you," Guy Germaine told Connie Moreau outside of Dr. Zinsemeyer's classroom.

"Yep," Connie nodded. "Dr. Z's. Let's just hope she doesn't live up to her name."

"Hey now, you never know. Maybe she does her chem lectures in black glasses between playing the sax. Don't be so judgmental!"

"I'll try to keep an open mind, then," Connie got on her tiptoes and gave her boyfriend a parting peck. "See you at practice!"

"Yep, see ya then!"

As Connie disappeared inside Dr. Z's classroom, Guy turned on his heel and began the journey to his pre-calc class. The blond forward was eager not to be late, so he moved at a brisk clip, past all the friendly faces who wanted him to stop and chat. He didn't know any of these people, and as recently as the previous school year, none of those people seemed to know that he even existed.

All throughout the day, Guy had noticed a certain buzz around him that was hard to describe. He wasn't sure if he liked it, but it was impossible for him not to notice it.

"Yo, roommate!" Luis Mendoza called out. "Wait up, man!"

Guy slowed to allow his new roommate catch up. "What's up, Luis?"

"It's brutal, man. Brutal," Luis answered with a fist bump.

"What's brutal?"

"The temptation, man, the temptation. Haven't you noticed?"

Guy chuckled. "I noticed that Mindy graduated last June. Is that why you find your new chastity belt such a burden?"

"Partly," Luis nodded. "But the girls seem more aggressive this year, don't they?"

"What, like whips and chains? That sorta thing?"

"Hey, I did _not_ go there! Damn, that's some imagination you got! Now I'm scared about what I'm gonna be walking in on this year!"

"Heh, sorry," Guy chortled.

"No worries," Luis replied. "You're cool. I've roomed with a male nun before, so being with a deviant could make things more interesting."

"Then I'll try not to disappoint."

The pair of Varsity forwards arrived before the start of Dr. Quinn's class, and Guy surveyed the classroom for an open pair of seats, only to find two singles – one next to a few football players, and one next to some of the Beautiful People's most popular representatives.

Guy betrayed a look of shock as he observed Luis make a bee-line toward the football players, rather than the girls, and take a seat.

 _I guess he wasn't kidding about the temptation thing._

With a shrug of the shoulders, Guy made his way over to the cluster of campus princesses and took his seat. At once, the conversation that the girls had been having ceased.

 _This is the part when they tell me to get lost._

"Hey, Guy," Amanda Barry beamed. "What's up?"

 _Oh-kaaay…that was oddly civil._

"Not much," he shrugged.

"That's cool," Amanda shrugged back.

 _Cool?! When did 'not much' become cool?_

"So you looking forward to taking Varsity back to States?" Samantha Paulson asked Guy.

"You know it," he grinned.

But before Amanda, Samantha, or their friend Sarah Davis could continue the conversation, a willowy man with enormous glasses and a tweed jacket strolled into the classroom at the sound of the bell.

"Alright, ladies and gentlemen," Dr. Quinn spoke up. "Let's begin."

Though math had never been his strongest subject to begin with, Guy found Dr. Quinn uniquely difficult to follow. Not only did Quinn teach a hard subject, but he spoke like an auctioneer on meth. To make matters worse, Guy found himself playing the role of mailman for the Beautiful People, and he had to keep pausing to pass along notes. One of those notes had to be returned to him.

"This one's _for you,"_ Amanda explained.

He slid the note into his pocket with a nod, but resolved not to read it.

As the bell rang and the lecture ended, Guy felt like the experience had made him even worse at math than he had been when he had entered the classroom.

"Hey, Guy!" Connie beamed as she approached him in the hallway. "How was class?"

He hunched forward, grabbed the petite brunette by the waist, and kissed her flat on the lips.

"That bad, huh?" Connie giggled as they parted. "Well, if it made you miss me _that_ much, I guess I can't complain."

Guy managed to relax, confident that the flirty girls in his math class had observed the kiss and would know to back off.

"How was Dr. Z?" He asked.

"Well, if she really _is_ a jazz musician, then it's a hidden talent."

"Ah, too bad," Guy smiled. "But at least you gave her a chance."

"It's only September and she's already talking about extra credit opportunities. So her exams must be _insanely_ hard. But I guess she wants us to pass, or she wouldn't be offering extra credit, so there's that."

Guy nodded. "I didn't hear Dr. Quinn offer any extra credit." _But then, I didn't really hear_ anything _from him._

"I'm sure you're smart enough not to need it," Connie offered.

"Thanks."

"You ok, Guy?"

"Yeah, fine," he answered. "Just thinking about practice. I'm wondering how all the new faces are gonna work."

Connie shrugged. "They can't be any worse than last year's Varsity crew…no offense!"

"Nah, none taken. We sucked. The only thing good about our suckeyness was that it was kind of artful, in a weird way."

Connie laughed out loud. "I wish _I_ had your ability to find the silver lining in everything."

"Anyway, we better move. We don't wanna be late for practice."

Connie nodded and got into step with her boyfriend's long stride. As they made the mostly-quiet journey to the arena, she had a vague sense that something was bothering him, but couldn't draw it out of him. Given their long and complicated history, however, Connie decided that she was being oversensitive, and dismissed her own concerns.

* * *

Gordon Bombay felt a tinge of sadness as he walked past the Varsity team that had lined up after their practice and were about to head into their locker room. Though there were a few new faces, most of these kids had played for him at one point. Had he not gone to the West Coast for his short-lived gig with USA Junior Athletics, he would have been at Eden Hall for the Ducks' freshman and sophomore years; and he never would have separated from the group of kids that had gotten him to sober up and fly right.

 _You had to go to California, though,_ he kept telling himself. _You know why. So there's no point in beating yourself up over it. It didn't work out, but so what?_

He managed to return the smiles of his old players as they shuffled past him.

The sound of the heavy locker room door closing behind Varsity snapped Gordon back into the present. It was only then when he realized how much of a zombie he had been. He hoped his players hadn't noticed.

Without wasting another precious second, he blew his whistle and ordered his team to do laps. The new JV squad consisted entirely of Ted Orion recruits, with one exception.

Les Averman, never much of an athlete, made a point of going hard down the ice for warm-ups. As the bespectacled Duck raced around the ice, Gordon realized that Averman was a leader after all. He had given Averman the JV captaincy out of respect to his seniority, and out of sympathy over the fact that Les had not been allowed to move on to the next level with his friends. But as all the freshmen moved to keep Averman's brisk pace, Gordon felt that Averman truly deserved the 'C' that he would be wearing on his chest.

"Alright, bring it in!" Gordon barked after several minutes.

At once, his players ceased their laps and moved to join him at center ice.

"Take a knee..." Gordon did a quick scan of his players. _No girls._ "…gentlemen."

The boys duly took a knee and looked up at their new coach. Gordon guessed that none of the smooth, youthful faces before him had ever felt the glide – or pull – of a razor, but the former Hawk knew that stubble was not a prerequisite for toughness and aggression.

"Take a look up at the rafters, men."

The ceiling of Eden Hall Arena was dominated by bright red Warrior banners – bold symbols of State Championship victories past. The white-and-teal banner belonging to the JV Ducks of the previous year stood out like a sore thumb in the sea of crimson.

"As you can see, at Eden Hall, we're in the business of winning," Gordon declared. "Our colors may have changed, but our traditions have not. Each and every one of you wants greatness, or you wouldn't be here. Well, greatness doesn't come easy.

"We've got one month before the season starts, and throughout that month, you will hate me. And you will love each other. My job is to teach, push, press, motivate, and otherwise beat the snot outta ya until you've _earned_ your colors."

 _Oh, boy. Captain Blood is back,_ Averman thought.

"Until that day," Gordon continued. "The first and last thing out of your mouths will be 'Sir.' Is that understood?"

"Sir, yes sir!" Some of the boys chorused.

"What was that?!"

"SIR, YES SIR!"

"Huh?"

"SIR, YES SIR!"

Gordon blew his whistle. "SUICIDES! RIGHT NOW!"

"SIR, YES SIR!"

As JV practiced, Varsity, now dressed in street clothes, sat huddled around their locker room as they did homework. With last year's upperclassmen either graduated or not making the final roster cuts, the core of the team was all Duck. But several new faces rounded out the roster.

Though seated, Mato Martin, a new defenseman, towered over Kenny Wu. Mato, a full-blooded Sioux, was a powerfully-built junior who had transferred to Eden Hall from a school in North Dakota. During practice, he had shown himself to be the most nimble and offensive-minded of the defensemen, and Adam practically drooled at the potential of such a dynamic player.

Mato's dark hair and dark eyes briefly reminded Adam of Paul Larson – an old Hawk friend turned bitter enemy. Adam shuddered at the thought, but didn't abandon it right away.

 _I wonder where he is now._

None of the Ducks had heard from Larson in the eight months since his expulsion. Adam had heard rumors that his former friend had gone to the far north of the state to live with relatives near Duluth. Another rumor had him serving a sentence in juvie. The wildest rumor had him lying about his age and joining the Green Berets as an elite sniper, sending Colombian drug mules and guerillas to their death by the score.

 _Even a sociopath can have his uses._

Over by the far wall, another defenseman, Kyle Gibson, had already planted himself between the Bash Brothers. A Mankato native and a sophomore walk-on at Eden Hall, Orion had singled him out for his left-handed shot. Apart from that, Adam couldn't really figure out what Kyle brought to the table. Or why he wasn't on JV. But Adam figured that the sophomore would be on the back end anyway. With his blond hair, blue eyes, and medium build, it was unclear what Kyle's athletic ability was just by looking at him. Just that he was not unusually strong or fast. But not unusually weak or slow, either.

Seated by Russ Tyler, Darren Springs was a junior transfer from Minneapolis public schools, and was the most 'local' of all the newbies. A short, wiry black kid, Darren was a blazingly fast forward. Luis was already starting to feel that the new arrival was stealing his spot, but had managed to put on a friendly face around him.

But if the friendliness of Luis was strained, the friendliness of Russ toward Darren was very easy. The two of them hardly got any homework done, and their animated conversation was frequently interrupted by loud laughs. As Charlie observed this, he realized for the first time just how isolated Russ had felt on their previous teams.

Captain Duck made a mental note to reach out to Russ more often.

Over by Dwayne Robertson, Craig Phillips of La Crosse, Wisconsin kept his head down and did his pre-calc. A natural introvert, this junior transfer was even quieter than usual, as his 'Canadian-sounding' accent had already made him the butt of a few jokes. Dwayne, the genial Texan, gravitated toward this 'exotic fella,' much as he had gravitated toward Russ.

Though he'd never beat Luis or Darren in a sprint across the ice, Craig had a quickness that was belied by his tall frame. His height and muscle were also a welcome change of pace for Duck forwards, Adam felt, as Duck forwards had tended to be short and slight.

Finally, the newish Ryan O'Neill had returned. The Surge-guzzling Kentuckian with flaming red hair had only been with the Ducks for one year, so he was still somewhat of a new face. But he had proven to be an efficient wingman, and the manic energy that he brought to the ice had made it all but impossible for opposing teams to score power play goals on the Ducks.

Adam looked up from his chemistry homework and surveyed the players that surrounded him. Now a junior at Eden Hall, this was the first time on campus that Adam Banks had ever started the year feeling good about his team and the upcoming season.

* * *

After getting out of his skates and ushering the JV team into their locker room, Gordon settled into the cramped office that he shared with Varsity Coach Ted Orion.

The office, with its mysterious foot-like smell, was more remarkable for what it _didn't_ contain than what it actually did. It still amazed Gordon that Ted never kept any of his NHL memorabilia in there. How easy would it be for a high school hockey coach to throw his weight around moody teenagers by reminding them that he had played professionally?

Gordon didn't know why Ted chose to make their office an NHL-free zone, but he didn't feel like it was the sort of thing that he could ask about. He sat down on his rock-hard folding chair and made a mental note to bring in his office chair from home before glancing at the wall clock.

The hockey season hadn't even begun, so he couldn't kill the next hour by reviewing game tape and writing scout notes.

When Ted called him last spring and tossed him the lifesaver that was the JV coaching job, Gordon had gratefully accepted, figuring that he would be too busy to slip back into destructive habits. But as the red second hand made its torturously slow lap around the numbers, Gordon was desperate for something, _anything_ to occupy his mind.

His eyes were drawn to the phone.

 _Don't._

But they stubbornly refused to shift.

 _She's moved on. It wouldn't be right._

Again, no cooperation from his eyes.

He let out a loud sigh and grabbed the receiver, only to replace it the next second. Then, he brooded for a full minute before grabbing the receiver and punching in one of only a handful of phone numbers that he knew by heart. He took a deep breath as the phone rang.

" _Mickey's Diner."_

"Uh, hi. Is Casey working today?"

" _Nah, she's off today."_

"Oh, ok. Thanks."

After replacing the receiver, Gordon instinctively reached into the bottom right drawer of his desk, but immediately slammed it shut. There was no flask of bourbon in there this time, but a cold sweat ran down his spine when he realized that one day there would be.


	3. The News

**Chapter Three: The News**

Fresh off her election as Student Council President, Ashley Weatherford hosted a victory party at her family's home in Edina. The grand Victorian mansion was just three doors down from the Banks residence, and Adam had had quite the crush on his comely brunette neighbor – until Julie Gaffney made him forget about everything else.

Or _just about_ everything else.

After a week of practicing with the new Varsity team, the hockey-obsessed Adam Banks could not remember the last time he was so excited about an upcoming season. The off-campus party that he was about to attend almost seemed like an unwelcome distraction. The newbies had fit in seamlessly, and the team was already starting to gel. Then, the hockey gods, ever capricious, decided to halt all hockey activity for two full days.

"Relax," Julie said from the passenger seat of Adam's Range Rover. "You earned a couple days off."

"Huh?"

"I know you, Adam William Banks," Julie grinned. "You're making that 'Why are we not at the arena' frown of yours. There's nothing wrong with getting away from it for a weekend. Once the season starts back up, you'll be _begging_ for a day off."

"I guess," he shrugged. "I hope Charlie's doing alright. Linda's probably miserable because she lost. I just hope she doesn't blame Charlie for it."

"Yeah, hopefully he'll be at Ashley's. Apparently _all_ the Ducks were invited. Oh, look! There's your house!"

"Did you want to stop by and say 'hello' to the folks?"

Upon seeing Julie's look of horror, Adam cracked a smile.

"You know, for a sweet, handsome, overachieving dork, you can be pretty mean."

"Hey!"

"I _said,_ you were sweet, handsome, and overachieving. Didn't I?"

Adam looked over to see Julie smile, and realized that she had won yet another of their little battles. Not that they were ever real fights. Just banter. Despite playing hockey since the age of six, and being surrounded by smart alecs and jokers for most of that time, Adam never really had anyone to banter with. But with Julie, Adam had a real friend and a true equal for the first time in his life.

"Well, here we are!" He announced, parking the car in the street.

"That close to your house, huh? Did you know Ashley growing up?"

"Not really," he said, unfastening his seatbelt. "She was really sick when we were younger. Spent most of her childhood in one of those germ-proof bubbles, like in _Seinfeld."_

"Oh my God."

"Yeah, I was always afraid to breathe in her presence."

"That sounds horrific."

"Yep," Adam nodded, stepping into the street. "I mean, she was plenty nice and everything. But such a fragile vessel was never gonna work for me. What I needed was a strong, hardy girl from the woods of central Maine."

"Well, naturally," Julie said, joining Adam and clasping his hand.

"Yep, no bubble girls for Adam Banks. Give me a girl who can play hockey, gut a moose, and swing an ax…but hopefully not _at me._ "

"As long as you don't give me a reason to."

The pair walked up to the front porch and rang the doorbell. Several seconds later, a tall elegant, and not-at-all sickly looking 17-year old with long, chestnut hair and blue eyes answered the door.

"Adam!" Ashley Weatherford exclaimed, sweeping the startled boy into an embrace. "It's so nice to see you again!"

After releasing Adam from the hug, Ashley turned and studied the girl that her neighbor was with.

"And you must be the famous Julie Gaffney," she reasoned, extending a hand. "Ashley Weatherford, nice to meet you."

Julie shook the outstretched hand with a nod. "Nice to meet you too, Ashley. And congratulations… _Madam President."_

"Thank you," Ashley beamed. "Well, come in – enjoy yourselves!"

The new Student Council President – and card-carrying member of the Beautiful People – ushered Julie and Adam into the foyer and closed the door behind them. The party already looked to be in full swing, with members of Eden Hall's most prestigious cliques intermingling to the sounds of Coolio. If _Gangsters Paradise_ seemed out of place in safe, affluent, and lily white Edina, the discrepancy did not appear to bother any of the party guests.

"Well, it looks like Bubble Girl has made a nice recovery," Julie chuckled.

"Huh? Oh, yeah! The miracles of modern medicine, I guess!"

Julie smiled. As serious and as hardworking as Adam Banks was, there was a side to his personality that was just gloriously goofy. Julie loved it.

"I'll just go and see if I can find us some bottled refreshment," he volunteered.

After his disastrous experience at Zach Henderson's Halloween party the previous year, Adam avoided punch or any other type of drink that could potentially be tampered with. As he disappeared in pursuit of bottled – or canned – drinks, Julie scoped her surroundings. Though she liked receiving party invitations, Julie was more comfortable sticking with people she already knew and liked, and she had a mild look of apprehension as she failed to spot any familiar faces.

"Julie Gaffney!"

The goalie turned to follow the sound of her name, and discovered possibly the blandest-looking girl she had ever seen.

"I don't believe we've met," the bland-but-pungent stranger said. "I'm Stacy Andersen, Editor-in-Chief of the _Gazette._ And I've been most eager to meet you."

The overwhelming scent of Stacy's perfume caused Julie's head to spin; but miraculously, the goalie managed to remain on her feet.

"Obviously the paper had to touch base with the hockey captains first," Stacy continued. "But I've been _dying_ to learn more about you, and your experiences as a woman in a man's world."

"Will this be going in Monday's edition?"

Stacy smiled. While other people found her perfume impossible not to notice, Stacy Andersen found the smell of fear impossible not to notice. She knew for a fact that the ballsy female goalie in her midst was nervous.

"Oh, no," Stacy offered with a laugh. "We're a newspaper, not miracle workers. We already have our story for next week, and there's no time for editing or replacing it. This will just be a little chat between two girls trying to make it at an archaic old boarding school dominated by patriarchs."

"Come again?"

"Oh, come now, Julie. You must've noticed! The boys run everything at Eden Hall, especially in the athletic world. Oh, sure. We managed to get the Student Council presidency, but that's only because it's a difficult and thankless job. So the boys don't mind giving that one to us."

"Heh, yeah," Julie agreed. "Now that you mention it, the only people who ran for the office were three girls."

"Mmm-hmm," Stacy nodded. "Men love equality when it involves the tough stuff. But as far as the nice stuff goes? Forget about it, sister."

"Speaking of the three girls, what about Linda and Caitlin? Are they at the party?"

"Caitlin certainly is," Stacy answered. "It was very generous of Ashley to invite her, especially given Caitlin's…less-than-enviable standing."

"And Linda?"

Stacy shrugged. "I know she received an invitation. But will she show? Your guess is as good as mine."

"I'm back!" Adam announced, thrusting a chilled bottle of Evian into Julie's hand.

"Ah, Mr. Banks," Stacy greeted him with a smile. "Varsity's leader waiting in the wings. And how are you today?"

"I'm sorry, do I _know_ you?"

"No need to apologize, we haven't met. I am Stacy Andersen. Editor-in-Chief of the _Gazette."_

Adam's eyes narrowed upon hearing the name of the loathsome gossip rag that was already creating drama out of thin air for the Ducks. While the newbies on Varsity were gelling, and the rest of the team was looking good, sensitive Charlie Conway was already getting upset. And the school newspaper was the source of Captain Duck's agitation.

"I see," Adam responded coldly.

"I know you have to be loyal to Charlie for now, Adam," Stacy began. "But you and I both know that he's going to lose it at some point. And when he does, fans of Eden Hall hockey will demand a strong leader. I expect you'll be ready to hear the call.

"I wouldn't have let Josh write that puff piece about you if the _Gazette_ wasn't prepared to support you."

"Puff piece?!" Adam struggled to contain himself. "You tore Charlie down for no good reason. Just to get people talking about your dumb paper."

Stacy shrugged. "I stand by everything in that column as factually accurate. And like I said, I expect you to be loyal to Charlie now. That's not a problem. _The problem_ will start when Charlie has another one of his little meltdowns, and you fail to step up and take the lead.

"But that shouldn't be for another few weeks. So until then, I'm more than happy to give you the benefit of the doubt."

Adam's blood boiled at Stacy's cool nonchalance. Here she was, doing everything in her power to undermine Charlie, only to demand that Adam 'step up and take the lead' when Charlie collapsed under the weight of the bogus drama that Stacy herself had created.

"Or you could quit messing with Charlie and the Ducks, and this won't even be an issue," Adam said through gritted teeth.

"Like I said, Adam. I'm willing to give you the benefit of the doubt. You deserve a chance to lead, especially after all that you've had to put up with – _from your own teammates!_ And I want to help you _get_ that chance that you've always deserved.

I understand that you have to be loyal to Charlie for the time being. So your criticism doesn't bother me. But please understand that I _am_ your friend."

Before Adam could respond, Stacy moved to end the conversation.

"Now if you'll excuse me, my readers expect a good story. So I need to go and find them one. Take care, Adam. Julie."

As their pungent companion took her leave, Adam looked at Julie. "She's totally full of it."

"Full of it?" Julie asked. "More like _drowning_ in it."

Adam chuckled. "C'mon. Let's dance."

As Adam led his girlfriend over to an area where other kids were dancing, Les Averman literally bumped into Greg Goldberg.

"Oh…Greg. Hey."

"Averman," Goldberg nodded shortly.

And with that, Goldberg moved to rejoin a cheerleader that he had been chatting up. Averman sighed unhappily.

 _I guess it really is over,_ he realized of his old friendship with Greg Goldberg.

"Linda!" Ashley exclaimed at the front door. "I'm so happy you decided to come! Congratulations on a well-run campaign."

Over on the setee, Stacy observed Linda's entrance with Charlie.

 _Well, at least she had the guts to show her face. I gotta give her credit for that._

Although Linda had managed to put on a brave face, Charlie Conway had the appearance of someone whose best friend had just died. And he managed to grow even more morose as Linda separated from him and worked the room. No one dared approach Captain Duck, indicating just how radioactive he had become in the days following the _Gazette's_ hit piece.

Stacy grinned smugly at the confirmation of her own power.

While Linda carried on with a broad smile plastered to her face – the politician impervious to defeat – Fulton Reed was getting acquainted with a perky blonde named Samantha Paulson.

"Really?" Fulton asked. "You like Pearl Jam… _you?!_ "

"Sure I do!" Samantha insisted. "Not only is their music fly, but they're perfect for horrifying my parents."

Fulton laughed out loud. "Sorry. I sorta took you for more of a Backstreet Boys kinda girl. I guess I shouldn't judge by appearances. Next I guess you're gonna tell me that you're into ICP."

Samantha shrugged. "They're ok, I guess. I mean, they try a little too hard to be badass, but I guess they don't totally suck."

 _This is literally the PERFECT woman,_ Fulton thought.

"They're not like Guns 'N Roses," Samantha continued. "Axl and Co. don't have to _try_ to be badass. They just are."

"Knockin' On Heaven's Door is my all-time favorite song," Fulton agreed.

"Same!"

Fulton was about to reply when he noticed Samantha's gaze follow Guy Germaine.

"So Guy and Connie. Are they still, like…a thing?"

"Like, yeah."

"Shut up," Samantha smacked Fulton for mocking her, but they each had a smile on their face.

"But yeah, they are," Fulton confirmed. "Why?"

"Oh, just a few friends of mine," Samantha shrugged. "They think Guy's cute."

"Connie's cute, but don't let that fool you. If you get between her and something…or someone…she cares about, she can be vicious as fuck. She's called the 'Velvet Hammer' for a reason."

"Good thing I'm not into blond dudes, then," Samantha grinned.

At that moment, a roar went up among the partygoers.

Dean Portman had arrived with the beer. His friends had no idea how he always managed to procure hooch, but the fast-talking boy from the South Side of Chicago was a natural hustler. And he had a knack for finding beer and gasoline stores that had lonely, frumpy women at the cash register. They never could deny him or his charm.

And neither could anyone at Ashley's party, as Dean Portman became a rock god at that very moment.

But if he was the John Lennon of the Mighty Ducks, the rest of the team were more-than serviceable as Beatles. With the possible exception of toxic Charlie, the Ducks had finally arrived after two long years on a brutal, unforgiving, and snobbish campus. They really _were_ the Big Ducks on Campus.

* * *

Over his own fevered protests, Gordon Bombay strolled into Mickey's Diner on Saturday for a late lunch. Or an early dinner. Drunk or sober, taking regular meals at regular times had never been a strength of his. He took a seat at the lightly-populated counter, and was greeted by a startled Casey Portalino (née Conway).

"I didn't know you were back in Minnesota," she said.

"Yep," Gordon nodded. "I returned home this past summer. I guess the thought of going through another winter without freezing temperatures and mountains of snow was just too much for me to bear."

"California was that bad, huh?"

Gordon shrugged. "Not really. But I've never really been able to stay in one place."

"I noticed," Casey said with a tinge of bitterness.

Gordon glanced at the wedding band and engagement ring on Casey's finger. "Still with Who's-It's?"

"His name is Bruce."

"I remember that spring before the Goodwill Games. Charlie kept pestering Hans and Jan for a job. Anything to get away from…Bruce. That's cool that you're still together though."

"Look, are you here to eat, or to pass judgment on my life?" Casey demanded.

"Turkey club and a Coke, please."

"Comin' right up."

And with that, Casey gratefully disappeared into the kitchen. She had no idea what Gordon Bombay was doing back in Minnesota, and she was stunned that Charlie never saw fit to bring it up at any point during the past several months. But whatever Gordon's motives and purpose were, Casey knew that he was not to be trusted.

"Here's your Coke."

She immediately turned on her heel to disappear again when he stopped her.

"Excuse me, miss? Could I have a straw, please?"

She reached into the front pocket of her apron before blindly tossing one in his direction. "Here."

And with that, she disappeared back into the kitchen, grateful to be away from the disturbing and magnetic man who had captured her heart years earlier only to throw it away.

* * *

"Home sweet home," Julie announced, ushering Adam into her dorm.

"So Connie decided to crash at Guy's, eh?"

"She sure did," Julie grinned. "Which means you've got me all to yourself this evening."

"How _will_ I manage?"

"Hopefully not quite as…efficiently…as last time."

At that, Adam's face became florid, prompting Julie to laugh. Few things made the Cat happier than a speechless boyfriend. And she knew that despite all of his innocent, boyish protests, Adam was better-equipped to handle her cattiness than just about any other guy at Eden Hall.

"Go on, make yourself comfortable," she nodded toward her bed. "I'll grab a tape. But first I need to check my messages."

"Do you want me to step outside?"

"No, don't be silly," Julie said, emphatically pointing to her bed.

As Adam got settled on Julie's twin, the goalie took a seat at her desk and dialed her voicemail. One new message. Julie played the message and heard uncomfortable breathing on the recording. She figured it was a prank caller who had chickened out, and was about to delete the message when she heard a familiar, but hoarse voice.

" _Julie, it's your mother. Please give me a call as soon as you get this message."_

 _*End of messages*_

Julie felt a vague sense of unease. She was pretty good about calling home on a regular basis, but her parents almost never called her. Something must have been very wrong. And the fact that Julie's distant mother was the parent reaching out to her instead of her doting father made the goalie all the more sick with worry.

She wasted no time punching in her home number to Bangor, Maine.

After a few rings, an annoyingly familiar voice came on the line.

"Mark? It's Julie."

"Oh, Julie. Hey. Have you talked to Mom yet?"

"No, that's what I'm calling about. What's going on?"

Mark sighed. "You better hear it from her. Just a minute."

Julie hated being kept in suspense – especially when something was obviously not right. As her brother moved to get their mom on the line, Julie felt a painful knot in her stomach. She couldn't recall ever feeling so desperate to hear from her mother, to be assured that everything was alright – or at least not as bad as they might seem.

After what felt like eternity, Karen Gaffney came on the line.

"Julie?"

The Gaffney matriarch sounded even hoarser than she had on Julie's voicemail.

"Mom? Hey. What's going on? Is everything alright?"

"Julie…Julie, a little while back, I wasn't feeling right. So I went to the doctor. He told me it could be a couple of different things, and he wanted to take a biopsy, so he could narrow down what it was. The results came back earlier today. I have cancer – ovarian cancer."

The receiver fell from Julie's hand, and briefly dangled from the cord before Julie came back to her senses.

"Oh my God," she said softly.

"I just wanted you to know as soon as possible," Karen said. "And I want you to know that I _will_ fight it. And I've been referred to a wonderful team of specialists in Boston. And I _am_ hopeful that I'll beat this. But I also knew this was nothing that I could keep from you."

"Of course."

"Well, do you have any questions for me?"

Julie thought for a moment. "To be honest, Mom, I feel pretty numb right now."

"Your brothers felt the same way, don't worry, sweetie."

Julie felt the full force of a tidal wave of sadness, helplessness, and fear wash over her. She had never felt so strongly about her mother in her entire life. It made her reflect on how distant their relationship had been, which only saddened her more – as if she had thrown away years of closeness with her mom by refusing to be a better daughter.

"I'm so sorry, Mom."

She had been unable to keep the tears out of her voice, which was just above a whisper.

"Please, don't be," Karen said. "Like I said, I've got a whole team assembled to help me beat this thing."

"What can I do?"

"Do? _You?"_ Do exactly what your father and I expect of you: continue being an outstanding student and athlete. Believe me, knowing that you're happy and doing well will help me in more ways than you can imagine."

"Okay," Julie managed weakly.

"Your father is cutting his business trip short," Karen announced. "He should be in the air even as we speak. And Junior's coming back home too. Hopefully you'll talk to both of them tomorrow."

"I will."

"Good. I'm sorry to drop all of this on you, sweetie. I really am. But please try and get some sleep."

"I will, Mom."

"Well, goodnight, then. I love you."

"I love you too."

Adam leapt from the bed as Julie replaced the receiver and put her head down on her desk.

"Hey," he said, taking a knee and gently grasping her chin.

She turned to face him with glistening emerald eyes.

They were the saddest things that he had ever seen. He grasped her by the back of her head, and pulled her face into his chest, where she broke into sobs while he stroked her hair.


	4. Future on Ice

**A/N:** Hello again. Apologies for the long hiatus. It has been a difficult, but interesting several months, and I'm feeling better than I have in a long time. I've decided to return to this story, and God willing, I'll see it through to completion. This next chapter is shorter than usual, but I wanted to post something to prove that I'm still in business. Thank you so much to everyone who has encouraged me both publicly and privately; you know who you are, and you are more than I deserve. And special thanks to bobcatwriter for prodding me with a college recruitment idea!

-Matt

* * *

 **Chapter Four: Future on Ice**

"Alright, alright – nice hustle, Gildemeyer," Gordon applauded as he watched one of his new freshmen backtrack and steal the puck during practice.

The new JV team was coming together nicely, and like Ted Orion's JV team of the 1997-1998 season, the second line of Gordon Bombay's squad appeared to be the team's secret weapon. Speedy, elusive and relentless on the backtrack, these boys were not going to allow too many fastbreak goals, which came as a relief to their head coach.

Between Chad Henson and Andy Feldman, Gordon had not found a goaltender that he completely trusted, so defense was going to be of the utmost importance for the team's chances. Gordon Bombay's long and checkered history in hockey covered a lot of ice, but defense had never been his speciality.

He had, until that moment, never fully appreciated the cushion that Julie Gaffney or even Greg Goldberg – when he made an effort – had provided to Duck defenses over the years.

Luke Gildemeyer drew his stick back and fired. Feldman raised his glove too late, and confirmed Gordon's mistrust of his goalies.

The coach blew his whistle as Luke and his linemates celebrated.

"Alright, that's enough for today," Gordon called out.

He began his penguin-walk from the bench toward his players as JV converged on center ice.

"You fellas are really hauling ass out there," Gordon began. "Especially the second line, I'm proud of you. First line? Try acting like you have a bit of pride in what you do, ok? Third line? I like the nastiness, keep it up. Henson, Feldman? Gloves are for goalies who can _catch._ Failing that, try the old stick. Or just throw yourselves in front of the puck. It's not like you guys have old newspapers for padding."

As his players knelt in chastened silence, the coach glowered.

"Well?" He demanded.

"SIR, YES SIR!"

"Get changed and get out of here."

"SIR, YES SIR!"

As the boys got up to leave, Luke Gildemeyer approached his new captain.

"My, what a charming fellow," Luke said.

"I guess in his own way," Averman shrugged. "Coach isn't really my type, though."

"Ha! Got that right. So many hot chicks at this school, it's not even funny."

"You bet."

"Still, though…was Coach always like this?"

Averman shrugged again. "It comes and goes with him, this Captain Blood shtick of his."

"Captain Blood?"

"A little pet name that Team USA came up with for him at the Goodwill Games."

"That right?"

Averman nodded. "Keep playing the way you play, Luke, and I'll tell you all the war stories you could ever want to hear."

"Sounds good, man."

Gordon watched as the last of his players disappeared into the tunnel. Varsity had already practiced and were about to leave, as their studyhall was coming to an end. When Varsity left, Orion would leave, too. And Gordon would have their cramped little office all to himself. His team's goaltending had more holes in it than Swiss cheese, and Gordon was in no mood for company. He penguin-walked to the bench and looked back to the ice. It all seemed so easy and carefree at one point, little Number 9 skating around the pond in his black Hawks jersey. But as his sapphire eyes moved up to the rafters and the white Duck banner, Gordon was reminded of another banner that had stood out like a sore thumb.

 _Hawks, Runner-Up._

 _Ping._

"Why they never took that damn thing down, I'll never know."

He walked into his office and fell into his folding metal chair.

 _Goddamn, gotta swap this chair out. Really gotta swap it out._

He ran both hands through his light brown mane and exhaled.

 _What the hell am I gonna do about these goalies?_

"Gordon."

He leapt to his feet. "Ted!"

"Heh, at ease there, soldier," Orion mock-saluted. "You ok?"

"Never better. As a matter of fact, I think Henson and Feldman are gonna give Gaffney and Goldberg a run for their money."

Orion flashed a wry smile. "Is that right? Well, time will tell."

"How are Gaffney and Goldberg doing, anyway?"

"Well Goldberg is impenetrable, and Gaffney is...solid."

"Really? You thinking about starting Goldberg over Gaffney?"

"The pre-season is still young," Orion said. "And I think Gaffney will get it together. Still, something is going on with her, and I don't know what. She's quiet anyway, but when something's wrong, that's when she _really_ clams up."

"Ask Adam," Gordon suggested. "He'll know."

"You think I haven't tried that already?"

"Sorry."

"Don't worry about it," Orion said. "Those two are thicker than thieves though. Smart, too. I just hope for humanity's sake they use their powers for good."

Gordon chuckled. "You and me both."

"Anyway, I better get going," Orion declared. "And don't stay too late either, ok?"

"I won't."

"Alright, have a good night then."

"You too."

Gordon sat back down, and after several minutes, reached into the bottom drawer of his desk. After removing a few thick folders that contained empty sheets of paper, he found what he was looking for.

He grabbed the bottle of Scotch and removed the cork. Fiery, peaty, and with a generous alcohol content, Gordon trusted that it would do the job with none of the risks that came with bourbon.

 _Too good, that stuff._

He took a swig straight from the bottle and began to cough violently.

 _Gotta be a fucking wino to drink this shit._

Once he had recovered, he went back for another swig to settle his throat.

After returning the bottle to its hiding spot, Gordon sat back in his chair and exhaled.

 _I'm ok. Hey...I'm ok!_

Confident that he could handle the whisky, he went back for more. Time disappeared, along with half the bottle when Gordon heard footsteps.

With a sobering spike of adrenaline, Gordon yanked his desk drawer open with enough force to nearly drag it off the rails and dropped the bottle back in before covering it with folders.

The door opened, and a surprised janitor walked into the office.

"Oh. You still here, Coach? Isn't it about time to be getting home?"

Gordon suppressed a belch. "Yep. Don't mind me."

He staggered past the janitor and out into the hallway.

"Coach? You forgot your jacket!"

"Ppppph," Gordon waived a dismissive hand. "It's a gorgeous fall day, I don't need a jacket."

Taking care to pace himself, Gordon walked a miraculously straight line down the hall and out the door into a brisk autumn night.

* * *

Adam heard a knock on his door as he laid recumbent on his dormitory bed.

"It's open!"

"Hey, Adam!"

"Julie," Adam nodded.

"Don't get up or anything."

"Oh, now where _are_ my manners?"

He sprung from the bed and helped Julie out of her jacket, hanging it on the peg left empty by Ken Wu's absence.

"There," Adam pecked Julie's cheek. "Want a pop?"

"Sure."

He reached into the minifridge and tossed her a chilled can of Pepsi before making the short walk back to his bed. His feet were beginning to hang closer to the floor, which seemed in keeping with the increasingly visible socks that emerged from the retreating hem on his pant legs.

"What are you up to?" Julie asked.

"Oh, just watching a movie." He slid over to make room for her on the bed.

" _Tiny surgery. I'd like to take his face…off," Nicolas Cage declared on the TV. "Now if you'll excuse me, I have to use the little boy's wee-wee room."_

Julie chuckled. "This ridiculous movie."

"I _beg_ your pardon?"

"What, _Face/Off_ is supposed to be taken seriously?"

"It has its moments," Adam shrugged. "Like when Castor Troy tied his dead little brother's shoes for the last time...I admit it…I got a little misty-eyed."

"Over a serial killer?"

"Serial killers have feelings, too."

Julie laughed out loud. "My, what a Hawkish thing to say."

"Heh, I guess it kinda is," Adam agreed. "So what's up?"

"I've been getting a lot of literature and fan gear from Cornell University lately. And just yesterday I had a long phone call with the coach of the women's hockey team over there, Coach Goodwin."

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah."

"I didn't even know Cornell _had_ a hockey program," Adam said. "Much less a women's team. That's cool. Where is Cornell, anyway?"

"Small town in upstate New York called 'Ithaca'."

"You know," Adam sat up on the bed, prompting Julie to mime. "The University of Wisconsin is launching a women's hockey team in time for the fall of 2000. Right when we'll be starting college."

"Yes, we've been over this many times."

" _Wisconsin,_ Julie. Say what you will about the state as a whole, but _my God_ do they take their sports seriously! Wisconsin is the big time. And you can make history by being the goalie on its very first women's varsity team. Division I! I thought you wanted that?"

"I do," Julie said. "I mean, I _think_ I do. And why is having options a problem?"

"Because they complicate things when your mind's already made up," Adam explained. "I thought we agreed on Wisconsin. It wasn't my first choice, either, y'know. I'm sacrificing too."

"I know, I know. You really have your heart set on Michigan State, that way you can stick it to your nasty brother Michael in Ann Arbor. But Michigan State only has club hockey for the women."

"And that's an absolute disgrace."

"Be that as it may, I can't play professional hockey," Julie pointed out. "I have to think about other things, like academics. And Cornell is in the Ivy League."

"That's swell."

Julie chortled. "Swell? The 1950s called, they want their words back." She took Adam's mitt into her velvety hands."By the way, did you spend your summer sleeping under power lines? You seem bigger."

"Is that a good thing?"

"Well, there's _one_ way to find out."

She grasped the back of his head and pulled him in. He closed his eyes, letting her take him where she wanted to go, and was greeted by a tender-but-electric pair of lips. Grasping her waist, he pulled her onto his lap and felt himself grow with the contact. With fierce strokes, she made chaos out of his perfectly-ordered hair.

Nothing was hotter than a wild Adam. Except, perhaps, a bigger Adam. She knew he was quick, so the speed with which he removed her shirt came as no surprise, but his strength startled her.

"Adam!"

"Too much?"

"No…no, I like it."

With a roguish smile, he slid out of his shirt and began working her bra when a series of explosions rang out on the TV.

She pushed him off of her. "Adam, I can't have _this_ on in the background."

He turned to see John Travolta and Nicolas Cage battle it out in a gunfight and sighed.

"Cock-blocked by John Travolta," he despaired. "Now I know how my dad feels."

"What?" Julie giggled.

"Oh, y'know. John Travolta, _Grease,"_ Adam explained. "According to my mother, no man could ever live up to John Travolta in _Grease."_

"Well, his hair was pretty glorious," Julie agreed.

"Dad had hair like that back in the day, apparently."

"Anyway, just turn the TV off and we can…get back to work."

"Ah, we better not – as much as I'd like to," Adam said. "Ken will be back any minute, we better get dressed."

"Right," Julie slid back into her top. "How do you like rooming with Kenny, anyway?"

Adam shrugged. "Nice guy, quiet. Almost the perfect roommate. I just wish he wasn't such a homebody though. It makes…work…rather difficult."

"Yeah," Julie giggled. "We should find him a nice girl. Then _business_ could run more smoothly."

"Goofy hockey player and his gorgeous girlfriend finds shy San Franciscan a girlfriend? Nah, too sitcom, baby." Adam kissed Julie's forehead. "Besides, business will have plenty of time this weekend. The lake is gorgeous this time of year, you'll love the tree colors."

"Oh," Julie said. "I'm sure I would. But that's actually why I came over here in the first place."

"Oh?"

"Yeah. I wanted to see if I could get a rain check on the lake trip."

"Unless you want to wait for the spring, this'll be our last chance," Adam announced. "The last leg of pre-season is coming up, and after that, the real season."

"I know. It's just…well, like I said earlier, I had a long phone call with Coach Goodwin from Cornell. And the thing is, she invited me for a campus visit, and I really wanna go."

For a brief moment, Adam Banks felt he was back on the ice after JV's unexpected triumph over Varsity freshman year and watched pathetically as Scooter kissed Julie.

"Oh, sweetie," Julie got on her tiptoes and gave Adam a light kiss. "I'm not trying to get away from you! In fact, I want you to come to Ithaca with me!"

"You serious?"

"Of course! And while we're there, you can meet Coach Lafleur of the men's hockey team."

"So…that's the Cat's little game. Recruitment. Alright, I guess I can be your ball of yarn for the weekend."

"That's swell!" Julie kissed him again.

"Ah, now you're talking like a classy dame. Isn't that grand?"

Julie rolled her eyes. "And maybe we could visit the Cornell's engineering college and see how far along they are on the time machine."

"If Cornell University has a working time machine, I'll forget all about Wisconsin and Michigan State."

"Promise?"

"Promise."

"I'll hold you to it," Julie grinned.

As Adam reached for Julie's jacket, the door swung open and smacked him in the face.

"Ooof!"

"Oh, Adam!" Ken exclaimed. "I'm sorry."

"No harm done."

"Oh, hey Julie," Ken greeted her. "What's up?"

"Nothing much," Julie shrugged. "Adam and I have a date in Ithaca next weekend."

"Cool," Ken nodded.

"Anyway, I'll see you later, Julie," Adam kissed her one last time.

"Yep. Bye Adam, bye Kenny."

As Adam shut the door behind Julie, he began to think about all of their visits that had been cut short by his nice-but-shy roommate.

 _Maybe Julie's sitcom idea isn't so bad._

"Hey, Ken."

"Yeah?"

"I know a cool girl who likes you. Would you be up for a date?"

"Does that mean I could have hair like yours?"

Adam turned toward the mirror to discover Julie's handiwork.

 _Maybe he's not so nice after all._


	5. Growing Pains

**Chapter Five: Growing Pains**

 _Eden Hall Gazette, September 28, 1998_

 **SHAKEN, NOT STIRRED**

 **Likely Roster Moves Turn Ducks Upside Down**

By: Josh Woodward, Sports Reporter

With October right around the corner, fans of Eden Hall hockey are in store for a Ducks team that is significantly different from those of the past. In addition to working in the new blood, Coach Orion is seeking new uses for the old guard - with Adam Banks moving from center to wing, and Greg Goldberg starting at goaltender over Julie Gaffney.

On one level, the move of Banks to wing makes plenty of sense, and had been a long time coming. Charlie Conway was never going to give up his centerman spot without blowing up the team, and a visibly taller and stronger Adam Banks will add some much-needed heft to the Duck perimeter.

On the other hand, while the Ducks have gained a big and dangerous wingman in the form of Adam Banks, they have lost a smart and efficient centerman in the form of Adam Banks.

Does Charlie Conway have the hockey IQ to make this work? Time will tell.

More surprising than the changing of the forwards, Julie Gaffney appears set to back up Greg Goldberg in goal. Though long a favorite of Coach Orion, Gaffney has been unable to justify her position as starting goalie based on her performance in practice. Goldberg, on the other hand, has made enormous strides. Now twenty pounds lighter, Goldberg is displaying a quickness that had been long absent in his game.

An intriguing possibility is in the cards for the Varsity defensemen. Rumor has it that Orion is contemplating a breakup of the feared Bash Brothers. Junior transfer Mato Martin has exceeded expectations, and could well end up pairing either with Fulton Reed, or Dean Portman.

With these confirmed moves, and rumored moves, Orion is sending a clear message to the Eden Hall faithful: last year's disaster on Varsity will not be allowed to repeat. Even if the entire Duck roster has to be shaken up from top to bottom, Varsity will not be allowed to find itself on the outside looking in during the State Playoffs.

* * *

"I don't know _why_ you do this to yourself," Guy said to Charlie. He had observed Captain Duck fume over a copy of the _Gazette_ in the school dining hall. "Just ignore that crap."

"I want to know who talked."

"Huh?"

"I want to know _who talked,"_ Charlie repeated. "You know I've banned Josh from our locker room and our practices. That means _somebody_ is feeding him information."

"So are you gonna take a page out of the Spanish Inquisition's book?" Guy chuckled.

"That might not be a bad idea. The team's got enough to worry about without our dirty laundry being aired out in public."

"Got any suspects?"

"One or two."

"Care to share?"

" _No."_

Guy chuckled again. "Alright, fair enough. I guess I'm in the clear then, otherwise you'd be grilling me right now, right?"

Charlie sulked. "I don't know who to trust right now." He observed Linda off in the distance, seated at the Student Council's table. Charlie had been seeing a lot less of her lately.

 _Cui bono?_ Charlie asked himself. _Heh, I guess Latin class has some uses. Who on the team benefits from these stories in the_ Gazette?

The Duck captain twirled his fork absently as he brainstormed suspected leakers.

 _Well, Adam sure came off well in that article. So did Goldberg. And I'm sure Mato didn't hate being mentioned either._

"Hey guys," Adam set his tray down across from Charlie. "What's up?"

"Your popularity with the school paper," Charlie answered. "For one thing."

"Oh?" Adam asked. "What idiocy did they print today?"

"I'm surprised you didn't read it. Josh can't stop singing your praises. Or implying that I'm a hockey retard."

Adam shrugged. "People talk. It doesn't affect what happens on the ice though. You know, having that paper around might not be such a bad thing. The real media writes and talks junk about hockey teams all the time. Think of the _Gazette_ as preparation for the pros."

"They reported on Julie being benched," Charlie deadpanned.

"They did what?!"

"What are you so worried about? You said it yourself: the _Gazette_ is preparation for the pros. It's just something we have to live with."

"But Julie doesn't deserve that."

"And I do?"

"Well, no."

To Charlie, Adam's response sounded even less convincing than OJ Simpson's efforts to "find the real killer".

"Good to know you have my back," Charlie rolled his eyes.

 _I guess that rules out Adam as the leak. He wouldn't do anything to embarrass his precious Julie. Or maybe that was something he just let slip, something that he didn't think Josh would report. Or maybe Adam doesn't mind hitting Julie if that's what it takes to get at me._

"I gotta go," Charlie announced, getting up.

"But the lunch period is just getting started," Adam protested.

"Couple things I need to do."

And with that, Charlie grabbed his tray and shuffled toward the dish conveyor.

"Hey, Charlie!" Julie beamed.

Captain Duck grunted.

Julie shrugged, then approached the Varsity hockey table. "Our captain sure is cheerful today."

"The new edition of the _Gazette_ is out," Guy announced. "My advice to you? Don't read it."

"What, why?" Julie asked, taking her seat next to Adam.

Before Adam could grab the copy of the school paper to keep it away from his girlfriend, Julie snatched it.

" _Shaken, not stirred,"_ Julie chortled. "Ridiculous title, but okay."

But as Julie continued to read, the expression on her face darkened.

"That little bastard, Josh. How could Stacey let him write that?"

"Who?" Guy asked.

"Stacey Andersen," Julie replied. "Editor of the _Gazette._ And I _thought_ a new friend of mine."

"She's a snake," said Adam.

Julie slid the paper away from herself. "How does Josh know all this stuff anyway?"

"That's what Charlie's trying to figure out," Guy replied. "Somebody leaked. Charlie is suspecting everybody."

"Well that's just friggin' great," Adam sighed. "The season hasn't even begun and Charlie is already on the warpath."

"Things will get better once the season starts," Guy suggested. "Once we actually have games to play, the paper will have less to gossip about and more hockey to report on."

"You're probably right," Adam agreed before turning to Julie. "So, on a happier subject, are you excited about this weekend?"

Upon being reminded of their upcoming trip to Cornell University, Julie beamed.

"I can't wait," she replied. "Did you know that Coach Goodwin is only twenty-four? She's young enough to be like a sister."

"Doesn't sound very experienced," Adam pointed out.

"She's been around the game forever, though. And she is _crazy_ smart. A Cornell grad, herself, actually. I've been coached by men my entire life, having a woman coach would be so cool."

"You sound like you've committed to Cornell. You haven't even visited the campus yet."

"I know, I know. But I'm so excited!"

Adam gave Julie a tiny smile. As much as he disapproved of the Cornell excursion, he found Julie's happiness touching.

"Have you been in touch with Coach Lafleur?" Julie asked of the men's coach.

"Yeah," Adam nodded. "He's actually a cousin of Guy Lafleur. It's crazy how small the hockey world is. And he's definitely not twenty-four. He's old enough to be my dad. Older than that, actually."

"Sounds wise and experienced."

"Experienced, yes," Adam agreed.

Julie chuckled. "But you don't think he's wise?"

"I don't know that yet."

"I get the distinct feeling that you're unimpressed."

Adam made a sour face. "Lafleur's been an assistant on a lot of winning teams. The one time he was a head coach before, he got his ass kicked. Then he went back to being a winning assistant. And now he's the head coach at a program whose expectations hover at around zero."

Julie glared at him.

"No offense," he hastened to add. "I was referring to the _men's_ hockey program. From what I gather, the ladies are pretty impressive."

"They are," Julie smiled again. "I feel so lucky that they're even recruiting me," she then frowned. "You know, given that I'm not starting anymore."

"That doesn't change anything," Adam grasped her hand beneath the table. "You're an amazing goalie and Cornell would be lucky to have you. So would Wisconsin, by the way."

"Thanks," Julie giggled. "And don't worry, I haven't ruled Wisconsin out just yet."

"That's all I ask."

As he released her hand, he noticed that happiness added another layer of beauty to Julie Gaffney. He wanted to see her this way when they visited Cornell, even as he dreaded the potential ramifications.

* * *

Charlie left the dining hall and walked to the classroom of Dr. Barber. History was his first class after the lunch period, and Charlie figured the classroom would be empty. He needed the alone time, but it was not to be.

"Ah, Mr. Conway," Barber greeted him. "And how may I help you, today?"

"Oh, I'm sorry. I just came here cuz I needed a place to sit."

Barber gestured toward the student desks. Charlie thought his history teacher looked like a younger version of Morgan Freeman. Barber had a similarly dignified air about him - when he wasn't crushing rubber dwarfs with textbooks.

"Thanks," Charlie sat at his desk.

"Needed to get away from the rabble?"

"Heh, yeah. You could say that."

"Gustave Le Bon says we lose our minds when we are part of a crowd. A little bit of solitude can go a long way toward restoring one's mental acuity."

Charlie nodded with a tight, flat smile, telling Barber to shut up without vocalizing it.

"I'll leave you to your ruminations, then."

As Barber directed his attention to his lecture notes, Charlie began pondering the identity of the traitor on his team.

* * *

During his free period, Guy slipped into the school's math lab.

 _Such a weird name,_ he thought. _Why can't they just call it the math room? If there are no test tubes or Bunsen burners, it ain't a lab._

As he entered, he froze.

"Hey!" Amanda Barry beamed. "Fancy meeting you here."

The flirty campus princess from Guy's math class was seated at a table with a pizza-faced tutor.

"Hey, Amanda," Guy replied. "I guess I'm not the only one who finds Dr. Quinn's lectures as clear as smog."

"Yeah," Amanda giggled. "Sit here, Guy. Craig doesn't mind, right?"

"Go ahead, man," the nerdy senior said with a surprisingly deep and manly voice. "We were just about to start work on derivatives."

"Ah," Guy took his notebook out of his backpack and sat down across from Amanda.

Once situated, he looked up and caught Amanda staring.

The pretty junior did not appear embarrassed, and surprised Guy by maintaining eye contact with him.

 _And what eyes they are!_

The mint green shade of her eyes formed a striking contrast with her sun-kissed skin and chestnut-colored hair.

Amanda flashed a soft smile before turning back to her notes.

Craig the tutor began droning on about something that Guy assumed involved math, but he found it difficult to concentrate.

 _She really is beautiful…how did I not notice this before?_

Being a popular member of the Beautiful People, Amanda's role in Guy's first two years at Eden Hall was as a distant extra – with no spoken lines. He had admired all of the Beautiful People from afar, but they were so far beyond his league that he had never given them much thought.

 _And there's no reason to think about them. You've got Connie._

He smiled softly at the thought of his girlfriend, but snapped to attention when he felt Amanda's toes brush against his shin. She had slipped out of one of her sandals, and Guy could feel her toe brush up and over his knee, before continuing up his thigh.

His face was set ablaze as Amanda's toe slid up and down his inner thigh.

He cleared his throat, prompting Amanda's toe to vanish.

"Yes?" Craig asked.

"Oh, nothing," Guy said. "Sorry. Please continue."

"As I was saying…"

After several minutes of failing to comprehend the tutor, Guy let out a sigh of relief when he heard the bell ring. He shot up from the table and shoved his notebook into his backpack.

"Thanks, Craig," Amanda smiled. "It's all so much clearer now."

"I'm glad to hear it," the tutor nodded. "My door is always open to both of you."

"Thanks," Guy mumbled, turning to the door.

"You almost got us caught," Amanda giggled as she caught up to Guy in the hall.

"You're crazy."

"Yeah, I know it's a little chancy when Craig is right there. But didn't the Dalai Lama say that life without risks is life without purpose?"

"I don't think so."

Amanda shrugged. "Well it sounds like the sorta thing he _would_ have said."

Guy chuckled.

"So why haven't you called me? You don't really believe in the three days rule, do you?"

"Uh, no. I was gonna call you, but I lost the piece of paper you gave me."

"Oh, no prob." She reached into her bag and retrieved a tiny spiral notebook and a pen.

With a fluidity that astonished him, she jotted down her name and phone number in an impossibly neat script.

"There," she handed him the note. "And don't lose it this time!"

"I won't."

"Let's get to class, then."

At that moment, Connie appeared out of nowhere, prompting Guy to blush.

"Actually, I walk with Connie when I can."

 _With Connie, not with "my girlfriend,"_ Amanda observed. "Oh, that's cool."

"Hey, Guy!" Connie greeted him.

"Sup," he said with quick chin nod.

"I'll see you at class, Guy," Amanda said, moving to leave.

"Yeah, see ya."

Connie flashed a puzzled look at the departing figure.

"Was that Amanda Barry?" She asked.

"Yeah, it was."

"So…are you like…friends now?"

"Uh, yeah. I guess you could say that."

"That's awesome!" Connie enthused.

 _Okay, I was_ not _expecting that._

"My boyfriend is movin' up in the world," Connie continued. "You'll be the Big Man on Campus in no time."

"Heh, yeah," Guy chortled. "If that sort of thing is important to you."

Connie gave him a playful slap on the arm.

"You know I'm not like that," she said as they began to walk. "But being popular isn't the worst thing in the world either."

"Uh, no. I guess it isn't." _Confusing as hell though._

* * *

"I can't believe I agreed to this," Ken sulked as Adam tied a windsor knot for him.

"Frankly, _Kenneth,_ I was expecting a bit more gratitude from you."

"I'm sorry," Ken offered. "I know you and Julie went to a lot of trouble to set this up, but I don't know what to say or anything. This is gonna be a disaster."

"You don't have to say much of anything," Adam pulled Ken's tie tight and straightened it on the shorter boy. "There. You look like a million bucks. And like I said, you really don't have to talk much. Girls love to talk about themselves, so let her."

"I'll tell Julie you said that."

"And I'll tell Julie that I love to listen to her."

Ken chuckled. "Smooth. Why can't I be smooth like you?"

"Just be yourself. Don't worry about putting on a show or anything. Just be you, and be comfortable with that. Smoothness will result, trust me."

Ken looked in the mirror and frowned."This tie isn't really me."

Adam twisted his lips. "No, I suppose not." He loosened the tie and pulled it up over Ken's head. "I sometimes forget that you're a West Coast hippie. No tie and an open collared dress shirt it is then! Now where are your sandals?"

"Very funny, but I think I can suffer shoes."

"That's the spirit, now get out there and knock 'em dead!" Adam handed Ken the keys to his Range Rover. "Now, no matter how nervous you feel, take comfort in the fact that I will consider your date a smashing success if you bring my car back intact."

"Don't worry, I won't mess with your radio pre-sets."

"Good boy. Now off you go!"

"What are you gonna do, anyway?" Ken asked.

"Oh, I'm just gonna catch up on some business."

"Don't work too hard. Later, Adam."

"Later, Ken."

As Ken made his way down the hall, he was surprised to see Julie.

"Oh, Julie! Did you drop by to wish me luck?"

"Oh, uh – absolutely!" Julie gave the Californian a quick hug. "You look great. And I _know_ you'll hit it off with Beth."

"Thanks."

As the pair of Ducks went their separate ways, Ken noticed that Julie was heading to his room.

"Uh, Julie? Adam said he needed to catch up on some business."

"Yes, I know."

"But how?"

"Julie!" Adam swept his girlfriend into an embrace, bringing her into the room.

As Ken watched Adam hang the necktie on the door knob, he put two and two together.

Adam clicked his tongue and fired an imaginary pistol at Ken with his index finger and thumb. With a knowing laugh, Ken turned and made for the exit.

* * *

"Come in!" Orion responded to the knock on his office door. "Oh, Charlie. What can I do for you?"

"Is Coach Bombay here today?"

Charlie realized that his question was redundant as soon as he asked it. Given the cramped size of the office that Bombay shared with Orion, it would have been impossible to miss Bombay if he had been present.

"No, he called in today," Orion explained. "Touch of flu. Coach Matthews will be running JV's practice."

"Oh, okay."

"Is there anything _I_ can help you with?" Orion asked. "I know you're close to Coach Bombay, but I'm still your head coach."

"Nah, I just wanted to talk to Coach. It's kind of personal."

"Oh, okay," Orion nodded. "Take care, then."

"You too. Bye."

As Charlie shuffled down the hall, it occurred to him that he had hardly seen Bombay since his return to campus. Charlie had thought that Gordon's coaching job would have made his mentor and friend more readily available, but that turned out not to be so. He debated with himself whether or not to call Bombay, not wanting to bother him if he was sick, but still feeling the need to reach out.

He decided to check in, and made his way to the bank of payphones at the end of the hall. Feeling inside his pockets for change, he knew that he needed to call collect.

 _10-10-220, is it? Ah-ha! Success!_

"Charlie Conway," he said for the recording.

After several rings, it was clear that Bombay either was not home, or incapable of answering the phone. With a worried sigh, Charlie decided to drive to Bombay's apartment.

* * *

"There—there you are," Bombay slurred at a headstone. "Jack Fuckin' Riley. They say the good die young, but pricks live forever. I thought that made you immortal. Hey, I want you to know – I've been workin' on my aim. No more pinging the goalpost for me! Wanna see how much I've improved?"

Bombay unzipped his trousers and took aim at the offending monument.

"Here we go, here we go. See? Nothin' but net!"

He gave a contended sigh as he continued the deluge.

"Are you proud of me now? I really hope I didn't let you down." He shook for any remaining drops. "Cuz that's all I got. But if you ever want another demonstration, I can always come back."

The former Hawk zipped his trousers back up, and staggered out of the cemetery for the walk home.

Outside of Gordon's apartment building, Charlie sat on the steps until a cop on foot patrol told the young man that he needed to move along. As Charlie's Chevy Suburban disappeared from the apartment's view, Gordon appeared at the opposite corner, then shuffled over to his building. The two Ducks flew solo.


	6. Ithaca is Gorges

**Chapter Six: Ithaca is Gorges**

 _Dinky little airport,_ Philip Banks thought as his plane approached Ithaca Tompkins Regional Airport. _Here we go._

The airliner dove and hit the runway with all the delicacy of an F-16 on an aircraft carrier, prompting Charlotte Banks to grasp her husband's forearm. Their middle son, Adam, looked nauseous, but the trio had arrived in Ithaca, New York in one piece.

"It was nice of you and Dad to tag along," Adam said to his parents, though in reality he resented their presence.

"Nonsense," Charlotte waved a dismissive hand. "This is _your future_ at stake. Besides, now is as good an opportunity to meet the Gaffneys that will present itself. Isn't that right, Philip?"

"Your mother's right, Adam."

Adam chuckled at his father's mindless response. He could never imagine being like that with Julie. He could always rely on her to keep him on his toes, and he doubted that Julie Gaffney would ever be satisfied with a doormat.

After grabbing their carry-ons, the Banks family disembarked and made their way to the terminal. The Banks matriarch moved in her unique combination of alacrity and grace, and looked almost-modern in her starchy royal blue business suit. Her choice of skirt over trousers was her refusal to accommodate modernity.

Philip wore a characteristically baggy gray suit. Despite his considerable means, the dour lawyer never could bring himself to get his suits tailored, and his wife had long abandoned hectoring him over it.

Adam had thrown campus etiquette out the window, and defiantly wore a gray-and-green Michigan State Hockey T-shirt that was visible through his open fall ja **c** ket. He would have worn Wisconsin colors, but Wisconsin was just too red – like Cornell.

"I'm getting coffee," Philip announced. "Either of you want anything?"

"You don't suppose they make their coffee with a French press, do you?" Charlotte asked.

"Doubt it."

"I'll pass then, thank you."

"Adam?"

"I guess I could go for some ginger ale after that flight."

"Ginger ale?" Philip snickered. "Adam, we are in Upstate Yokel Country. Toilet paper only recently replaced newspapers."

"Heh, never mind then."

Adam joined his mother at a cluster of seats in the waiting area while Philip went in search of coffee.

"Well," Charlotte said. "This is rather bucolic, isn't it?"

"Uh, I guess. For an airport, that is."

"Still, Cornell _is_ an Ivy League institution. There's that, at least."

"For what it's worth."

"Quite a bit, I should say."

Adam yawned.

"And why did you wear that _disgusting_ shirt?" Charlotte demanded.

"It was clean."

"So was your Hawaiian shirt."

Adam shrugged. "Would that have been a better choice?"

"You're just trying to spite Michael," Charlotte huffed. "Well your brother isn't here, so give it a rest."

"You're the boss, ma'am."

Charlotte rolled her queenly eyes. She loved him, but her middle child was her most difficult one. Lacking older brother Michael's sense of propriety, and younger brother Eric's gentle nature, Adam had a way of getting under Charlotte's skin like no one other than her mercifully dead father.

Deciding to save her breath for later rounds against her son, Charlotte reached into her travel bag for the latest copy _of The New Yorker_ , but was horrified to discover one of Philip's Tom Clancy novels instead.

With a resigned sigh, she opened the worn paperback and began to read _The Hunt for Red October._

Philip eventually returned with bottled water for Charlotte and a can of Schwepp's for Adam.

"See?" He asked his son. "This place is full of surprises."

After a few sips of ginger ale, Adam fell sound asleep across from his parents, with Phil glowering at his PalmPilot, and Charlotte pretending to read in order to prevent herself from staring off into space.

" _American Flight 82 now arriving from Philadelphia,"_ the public address announced.

"Adam, wake up," Charlotte roused her son. "Julie's flight has arrived."

Philip shook his head. "Poor things. Down from Bangor and then up from Philadelphia."

"Yes, quite," Charlotte agreed. "About as round about a trip as you can get. And Julie had flown home from Minnesota. Why didn't she just fly with us?"

Adam remembered Mrs. Gaffney's cancer diagnosis. It had shaken Julie when she heard it, and Adam suspected that it bothered her a lot more than she let on.

 _It must be really bad if Julie wanted all that extra time with her mom._

"She's very close to her parents," he said blandly.

"Well isn't that sweet?" Charlotte asked. "Your Julie sounds lovelier and lovelier. I'm so looking forward to meeting her again."

"I'm sure it'll be a barrel of laughs," Adam said under his breath.

The young man got to his feet as the gate from the Philly flight opened, and he scanned the disembarking passengers for his girlfriend. It didn't take long for him to feel a magnetic presence.

 _How can she be so perfect this early, and after all that flying?_

"Julie!"

"Adam!"

The pair embraced, with Julie's parents bringing up the rear.

Adam felt at a slight disadvantage, having never met Julie's parents, and he was struck by the appearance of Karen Gaffney. Julie's mother looked unnaturally pale, but Adam doubted that her hue could be attributed solely to her ailment. With decades of indoor living in New England, surrounded by books and manuscripts, Karen Gaffney wore her devotion to literature on her skin.

Steven Gaffney, on the other hand, appeared affable if unremarkable. Slightly overweight, and standing at just under six feet with an artificial knee, Steven's perma-tan from a life of travel for work and play had lightened a bit, but remained noticeable.

"There he is, Mistuh Aaadam Banks," Steven grinned with an outstretched hand, which Adam shook.

Julie smiled uncomfortably. Her father's accent wasn't nearly as noticeable at home, but on the road, his R's dropped like leaves in the fall.

"Pleased to meet you, Mr. Gaffney."

"Please, nawt so fahmal. Call me Steve."

"Steve it is," Adam grinned.

"And this is my wife Karen."

Any lingering fear Adam had of his girlfriend's parents vanished, as he was put at ease by their friendly and down-to-earth demeanor. Adam even admired how the Gaffneys didn't bother to hide the fact that they were tourists in their dress. No baggy business suit for Steven, or Margaret Thatcher costume for Karen. And fake knee or not, Steven appeared determined to do some hiking.

"I hear Cahnell's got some wicked trails."

Philip and Charlotte had watched the introduction in silent horror, which only made Adam like Julie's parents even more.

* * *

Upon setting foot at the campus of Cornell University, Julie was struck by how much the place reminded her of Eden Hall – only much bigger. With its collection of steepled sandstone buildings, wide courtyards, and ancient trees decked out in autumnal crimson and amber, her new surroundings felt instantly familiar. And like her high school, Cornell boasted lake-front property; but whereas Lake Eden was a humble pond, Cornell was flanked by two rushing creeks that fed into the much deeper Cayuga Lake.

Even without their parents, Julie and Adam were not alone. They had been joined by eight other high school juniors – four girls and four boys; and the students made small talk as they waited outside of Willard Straight Hall, the student union.

It was obvious to Adam that for all of these teens, hockey was a very distant priority behind academics. The small group was well-represented by Science Olympiads, National Honor Society members, and student government officers.

 _And the fact that Wayne Gretzky is everyone's favorite player is not a good sign._

Adam got the distinct impression that the hockey fandom of his new peers was every bit as wanting as their gameplay. Not that he had anything against the Great One, but real hockey fans could always name a player who was at least a little more obscure than one of the most famous men on planet earth.

"Hey, everyone?" A female voice rose over the din. "Can I have your attention, please?"

Adam turned to see a young woman with brunette hair in a red Cornell Hockey jacket. Average in height, she appeared fit, and gave off an energetic vibe. Despite her porcelain skin and Anglo surname, Goodwin's eyes gave her a slightly Asiatic appearance that Adam found exotic.

"Hi, thanks everyone," she continued. "I'm Jen Goodwin, coach of the women's varsity hockey team. And this distinguished gentleman to my left is Pierre Lafleur, coach of the men's team."

Short, wiry, and with a wisp of mostly gray hair, Lafleur gave the appearance of a man who had long fallen out of contact with his bed. His tiny brown eyes sank deeply into his skull, and their beedyness invited an unwelcome comparison to a rat.

"Coach Lafleur and I will be guiding the official portion of today's tour. Does anyone have any questions before we begin?"

"I do," Steven Gaffney raised his hand. "Will we be visiting the dairy bar?"

The group chuckled.

"Of course," Goodwin beamed. "Lunch will be provided at the main dining hall, but anyone who wants to make an ice cream run is more than welcome. Just look for any one of these friendly Red Shirts," she nodded toward a group of red-clad student government members. "They'll be more than happy to show you any part of campus you wish to see.

"Any other questions?" She paused for a full two seconds. "Great! Let's begin!"

Goodwin led the group of students and parents away from the student union and began the tour. Philip had been studying a map of the campus, and upon discovering the presence of a Robert Trent Jones golf course, Cornell's stock rose considerably in his eyes.

Julie was itching to hit the trails and check out the imposing 200-foot gorges, and Adam was itching to head back to Eden Hall, hopefully with Julie having gotten the "Cornell thing" out of her system. Karen Gaffney, meanwhile, was blown away by the gargantuan reading room at Uris Library; and Charlotte Banks was satisfied that the university was sufficiently prestigious and grand enough for her son. Steven Gaffney wanted ice cream.

Goodwin dominated the tour, with Lafleur only mumbling a few responses to some of his colleague's talking points. Adam wondered if his would-be coach was as bored as he was.

 _Coach Hackett actually seemed to have some life to him._

Michigan State's RJ Hackett had struck Adam Banks as a force of nature. Tall, trim, and brimming with competitive fire, Hackett obsessed over decisive victory – particularly at the expense of the hated Michigan Wolverines, much to Adam's delight. Hackett had taken a shine to Adam, given the presence of Michael Banks at Michigan, and Hackett saw in Adam a glittering recruitment prize.

But as tempting as it was to join his soulmate in spite, Adam had not gone ahead and committed to Michigan State. Given that MSU only had club hockey for women, the idea of Julie joining Adam in East Lansing was never practical.

 _That's why Wisconsin was the perfect compromise…until Julie started flirting with this dump._

Adam began to wonder…if Julie was so hellbent on going to the school of her dreams, what was to stop him from going to Michigan State?

* * *

After dessert at the dairy bar – which Adam grudgingly conceded was good – he agreed to go for a walk with Julie.

"Isn't this place amazing?" Julie asked. "It's like Disneyworld for smart people."

"I'm glad you like it."

Julie smiled, satisfied that Adam was warming up to Cornell at last. Granted, he had not been effusive, and he never came out directly and said that he liked the place; but at least he was no longer plugging the University of Wisconsin at every turn.

 _He's even wearing a Michigan State shirt – I'll take it!_

"So are you gonna chat with Coach Lafleur before we go?" She asked.

Adam shook his head. "I don't think so."

"Oh, okay. He doesn't really seem like the chatty type, anyway."

"Your mom seems to be doing well," Adam changed the subject.

"Oh." That caught Julie off guard. "Yes, she looks like she's in good shape. She hasn't started treatment yet, but she and Dad seem optimistic."

"Your mom is a very strong woman."

"Heh, yeah," Julie agreed. "We used to butt heads all the time when I lived at home. I always thought it was because we were too different. Now I realize it's because we're so similar."

The pair continued to make their way past the Cornell undergrads on their way to class and arrived at the botanical gardens. Adam had to concede that the campus was lovely, and the October foliage only enhanced its beauty. But he could never imagine playing, studying, and living here.

From a hockey standpoint, he would be kissing any chance of going pro goodbye. He would languish and grow flabby against the mediocre competition that Cornell faced. Rather than top Michael, Adam would disappear into the void.

And while Adam was a solid honors student, his interests and aptitudes laid elsewhere; and he would rather be the smartest guy at a jock school than the dumbest guy at a nerd school.

"Wow," Julie gasped. "Look at that waterfall."

Adam looked down into the gorge to see Triphammer Falls. He noticed that a walking trail led down into a wide layer of rock that formed a creek bank.

"Wanna head down there and get a picture in front of the falls?"

Julie eagerly nodded.

* * *

"What a lovely trip that was," Charlotte Banks declared in the terminal of Ithaca Tompkins Regional Airport. "What did you think of Cornell, Adam?"

Adam opened his mouth to reply, but his mother held up an index finger as her cellphone rang.

"One moment, darling. Hello? Ah, Michael, how thoughtful of you to call!"

Adam rolled his eyes. In addition to being the perfect hockey player, Michael Banks was the perfect son – at least from his mother's perspective.

"Yes, Cornell was lovely," Charlotte said. "Yes, I think so too – the school is _very_ suitable for Adam."

 _He_ would _think that._ Adam seethed. _He knows I'll disappear here._

"Oh?" Charlotte asked Michael. "You've got big news, do you? I'm in suspense!"

 _Probably another lowlife begging to be his agent. Why does Michael think that's newsworthy?_

"I don't believe it!" Charlotte exclaimed. "No, I withdraw that – _of course_ I believe it. That's wonderful! My darling Michael on the cover of _Sports Illustrated."_

Adam felt his stomach turn.

"Did you want to speak to your father?" Charlotte asked Michael. "Oh, you wish to speak to Adam first? Very well then."

Charlotte thrust her cellphone into Adam's face. The boy grasped the phone and braced himself.

"Hey."

"Brother Adam," Michael greeted him. "How did your visit to Cornell go?"

"Fine."

"I was just telling our mother how great a match I think that school is for you."

"Oh yeah?" Adam asked. "You want me to go and waste away in Siberia? Can't stand a little competition?"

"Adam, you wound me. Can't a big brother be supportive of his little brother?"

 _Condescending twerp._ "In theory, yes," Adam agreed. "I wouldn't know from experience."

"Such an acid tongue. It's going to hold you back in life, Adam. Learn to be gracious."

"Any other pearls of wisdom, before I hand you off to Dad?"

"No, I just wanted to ask you about your visit. I'll let you out of the dentist's chair for now. Until next time, Adam."

"Yeah, bye." He handed the phone off to Philip.

"Michael?" Philip asked. "I overheard the good news, congratulations!"

The joy on Philip's face cut through Adam like shards of glass. It wasn't enough that Michael had to be the perfect hockey player and the perfect son. Michael wanted to overkill the competition by having Adam fade into hockey oblivion. And their parents were eating it up.

After seeing her parents off, Julie returned to the Banks family so she could fly with them back to Minnesota, stopping in front of Adam.

"Hey, you!" Julie beamed. "Look what I picked up at the school bookstore!"

Julie undid her denim jacket and revealed a tie-dye 'Ithaca is Gorges' T-shirt.

"Don't worry," she offered. "I didn't forget about you." She handed him a folded, matching shirt.

Adam mustered up his best fake smile. "Thank you, Julie."

"I can't wait to come back here."

Adam arched an eyebrow.

"Coach Goodwin arranged for me to come and see a home game during our Christmas break. If you're interested, I'm sure I can get her to mail you a ticket."

 _I'm sure you can._

"Thanks, but I'll hold off," Adam replied. "I don't know what December has in store for me, so I want to keep my options open."

"Oh, okay." Julie took her seat next to Adam and rested the side of her face against Adam's chest, prompting him to wrap an arm around her.

"You alright?" He asked.

"Yeah, just tired."

"Yeah, I'm gonna sleep like the dead on that flight." He turned to observe Philip, who had wandered off a distance, still on the phone with Michael.

Philip appeared animated and happy. Adam felt so small – both over Michael's achievements, and his resentment of those achievements. But Adam refused to let himself be defined as the kid brother of Michael Banks who also played hockey, only less well. Adam was determined to be his own man.

And he knew that could never happen in Ithaca.

No matter how much Julie wanted it, Adam Banks resolved to never attend Cornell University.


	7. A Brave Face

**Chapter Seven: A Brave Face**

The final horn sounded on JV's opening day, and after a dizzying 15-goal game, Gordon Bombay's squad eked out an 8-7 victory. Bombay had gone through both of his goalies, and backup goalie Andy Feldman had been unable to stop Chad Henson's bleeding. It was only by virtue of the Ducks' superior offense that JV had managed to beat Minneapolis North by a whisker.

But Bombay was in a forgiving mood, and in the locker room afterward, he congratulated his players on their victory. He was just grateful that he had gotten through the game with such a killer hangover, and that no one seemed any the wiser.

After his postgame pep talk and several rousing "quacks," Bombay led his players, now dressed in street clothes, into the stands so they could watch the Varsity team complete the opening day matinee. As soon as he had gotten settled, Bombay realized that he needed to go to the bathroom.

 _Where's a Riley tombstone when I need it?_ He stood up with a loud grunt. Bombay had turned thirty-five that April, and he noticed that he often struggled to get to his feet without grunting.

As he staggered toward the men's room, he nearly collided with a familiar figure outside of it.

"Casey!" He gasped. "I'm so sorry."

"Don't worry about it Gordon."

She studied his face with a mixture of curiosity and concern. Though the lighting wasn't great, Casey thought the whites of Bombay's eyes looked a rather sickly yellow.

"Here to watch Varsity, I take it?" He asked.

"Yeah. Bruce is here too," she nodded toward the men's room.

"I'm glad he's so supportive of Charlie. He seems like a good guy."

"He is."

"Well, I'd love to stay and catch up," Bombay offered. "But nature calls."

Casey grabbed his arm to stop him, but immediately released. She knew all about his battle with the bottle that led him to coach D5 all those years ago, and she had a sneaking suspicion that Bombay was struggling, but she had no idea how to broach the subject.

 _I'm probably just being a worry wart anyway_

"Sorry, Coach," Casey offered. "Go right ahead."

 _Coach? That's a bit formal_ , Bombay thought. But then, he had done quite a bit to push Casey away over the years. The fact that he was no longer on first name terms with her could hardly come as a surprise.

He nodded, then disappeared into the men's room, occupying one of the stalls. After relieving himself, he reached into the breast pocket of his sport coat and retrieved a hip flask.

 _This headache won't cure itself._

And with that, Bombay unscrewed the flask and helped himself to several hairs of the dog.

* * *

"Alright, ladies and gentlemen," Orion called to his team in the locker room. "This is what we've all been working toward. This is when all those practices, and all that conditioning are about to pay off. Some of you have been a Duck for years, and some of you are first timers.

"But one thing _all_ of you have in common? You've never been on a team like this."

The players murmured in excited agreement.

"But the Blake Bears aren't gonna lay down just because we said 'Boo'," Orion continued. "These guys are good, and they are Eden Hall's number one rival. Whatever happens today, we'll be seeing them again – so let's set the tone."

"Hell yeah!" Portman agreed, followed by knowing laughs.

"Wingers?" Orion asked. "These Bears are as mean as they are big. So I wanna see some real nastiness along those boards. Remember – your shoulder is your shield _and_ your sword."

"Yes, Coach," Adam nodded solemnly. The Ducks had never expected him to be an enforcer prior to this season, but if that's what his team needed of him, Adam Banks resolved to be the big, mean bastard that Orion expected him to be.

"Defensemen!" Orion continued. "The Blake D-men like to spend their time in the offensive zone…that should create some sweet scoring opportunities for you. Don't be shy about taking them."

"We won't be," Mato Martin assured his coach before bumping his fist with his new defensive partner, Fulton Reed.

Dean Portman glared at the newcomer, but did not breathe a word.

"And Goldberg," Orion spoke up. "I know you love the stick, but Blake floods the zone…so don't overdo it. Try catching a few instead."

"Yes, Coach," a noticeably thinner Greg Goldberg agreed.

This caught Julie's attention. Goldberg had always been the stick man, and Julie had always been the glove girl. Orion was demanding that Goldberg play to Julie's strength rather than his own. For the first time since she learned of her benching, Julie Gaffney felt good about her chances of getting back between the pipes.

"And centermen," Orion continued. "You know what to do, or else you wouldn't be where you are."

Charlie grinned at that. _At least_ someone _thinks I'm where I belong._

"Alright, bring it in," Orion motioned for his players to move in. "Quack, quack, quack…"

"QUACK, QUACK, QUACK, QUACK, QUACK!"

* * *

"Goooood afternoon, ladies and gents, "Josh Woodward spoke into his radio mic. "There's no substitute for the atmosphere here at Eden Hall Arena, but if you couldn't get into this packed house, I'll do my best to give you a feel for what it's like.

"With Homecoming right around the corner, Varsity is looking to make a statement here on opening day, and prove to the football team that Eden Hall is a hockey school. But that's assuming that these Ducks can get past the Blake Bears – a crosstown rival that has been a thorn in Eden Hall's side since its Warrior days.

"Two years ago, the Bears overcame a 9-goal deficit and forced a tie on the JV Warriors. Those JV Warriors, now Varsity Ducks, have _not_ forgotten that humiliation, and will be looking for revenge.

"But the Bears have not been hibernating all this time. Last year, their recruitment class outranked Eden Hall's, and those freshmen hotshots are now seasoned sophomores who are looking to add a bit of _seasoning_ of their own as they serve up Duck on their rival's home ice."

Josh pressed his cough button to allow himself a chuckle. _I kill myself sometimes._

"Ladies and gentlemen," he continued. "I don't have to tell you it's pandemonium here, because you can hear it!"

The home crowd roared as it saw the Ducks line up in their tunnel.

"But first, the Blake Bears!"

Loud boos rained down upon the blue-clad visitors as they skated onto Eden Hall's home ice.

Scott Fiorelli, captain of the Bears, blew sarcastic kisses at the Eden Hall faithful. The gesture of defiance he had been planning involved another, more intimate body part, but he decided to tone it down rather than risk ejection.

As the Bears skated to their end of the ice, the Eden Hall pep band began playing _Hail, Warriors_. With the beating of the war drums, the home crowd went delirious in anticipation.

But the Native-themed war song seemed wrong to Charlie. As badass as the song was, it just didn't reflect the Ducks. He knew that he would have to come up with something else, or the Ducks would be remembered as placeholders for the Warriors. Not that the Native name bothered him, but the Ducks could hardly claim a legacy if Eden Hall reverted back to the Warriors the moment they graduated.

Josh switched on his PA mic. "And now, ladies and gentlemen…your Eden Hall Duuuuucks!"

The crowd roared, and nearly drowned out the band, who continued with their furious rendition of the old school fight song.

"From Edina, Minnesota, standing at six-four and playing right wing, Adam Banks!" Josh introduced the new winger, as he skated out of the tunnel.

"From St. Paul, Minnesota, standing at six-one and playing left wing, Guy Germaine!" Josh continued. "And from Stillwater, Minnesota, a six-two defenseman, Fulton Reed!"

The Eden Hall faithfull greeted the familiar names with enthusiasm, but were in for a surprise when they heard the name of Fulton's new defensive partner.

"From Bismarck, North Dakota, standing at six-three and playing defense – Mato Martin!"

The enthusiasm of the crowd waned for just a few seconds, but picked back up as the burly-but-speedy defenseman made his way onto the ice.

"Playing center, at five-ten and from Austin, Texas – Dwayne Robertson!" Josh announced. "And from Louisville, Kentucky, standing at five-nine right winger Ryan O'Neill."

The Surge-guzzling forward barreled onto the ice and nearly knocked over his linemate Dwayne, but managed to put on the brakes just in time.

"And at left wing, standing at five-two from Minnesapolis, Minnesota – Connie Moreau."

As the home crowd realized that their entire roster did _not_ consist of giants, Josh detected a waning in their enthusiasm, so he embellished his next introduction.

"And from Mankato, Minnesota, playing defense and standing at five-eleven, Kyle the 'G-Man' Gibson!"

Josh was unsure if his sobriquet had anything to do with the uptick in crowd enthusiasm, but he shrugged as the Eden Hall faithful greeted the aggressively average Kyle Gibson with thunderous cheers.

"From Chicago, Illinois, standing at six-two and playing defense, the Baddest Bash Brother – Dean Portman!"

The crowd erupted in response to hearing the name of a fan favorite.

"And from the City of Angels, standing at five-ten and playing defense, Russ Tyler!" More cheers. "And standing at an even five feet, playing left wing and hailing from Don't-Call-it-Frisco, California – Ken Wu!"

 _Why did he have to announce our heights?_ Ken sulked. But out of the corner of his eye, he caught a glimpse of Beth Lapinski waving to him from the stands. He smiled and waved back.

"And from La Crosse, Wisconsin, standing at six-two and playing right wing – Craig 'the Killer' Philips! "

The sweet-natured kid from Wisconsin looked gobsmacked at the nickname, but made it to the ice without stumbling.

"Bringing the heat from Miami, Florida and standing at five-eight – Luis Mendoza!"

Josh noticed that the cheers seemed to rise an octave at the mention of Luis, prompting the announcer to press his cough button for another chuckle. _That guy is a gold mine for the Lifestyle section of the paper._

Releasing his cough button, Josh continued. "And from Minneapolis, Minnesota – standing at a lean and mean five-five and playing left wing, Darren Springs!"

"And now, your goalies," Josh announced. "Standing at five-eight and coming to you from Philadelphia, Pennsylvania – Greg Goldberg. And from Bangor, Maine, also standing at five-eight– Julie Gaffney!"

Josh noticed the crowd was audibly louder for Julie than it was for Goldberg. _Heh, Stacy is gonna love_ that _drama._

"And finally, your captain," Josh continued. "Standing at five-eleven and hailing from Minneapolis, Minnesota – Charlie 'Captain Duck' Conway!"

Respectful, if unenthusiastic applause greeted the Varsity captain. Josh wondered if that reflected Charlie's lower social standing, or if the crowd was simply exhausted from all of the earlier applause.

"Ladies and gentlemen," Josh intoned. "Your 1998-1999 Eden Hall Varsity Ducks!"

And with that, the band started up a fresh rendition of _Hail, Warriors_ as the Ducks circled around their half of the ice. After standing for the national anthem and receiving final instructions from their coaches, the first lines and defensive pairings lined up on the ice.

Josh had switched off his PA mic and spoke into the radio. "It's loud, and everybody here is on their feet as they await the opening faceoff. Look for this game to be a nasty one, as Blake captain Scott Fiorelli is already exchanging words with Charlie Conway."

"Nice Injun tune you got there, Conway," Fiorelli chortled. "I guess it's catchier than endless quacking, though."

"We're working on a new song."

"Oh yeah? Who's your inspiration? Cher?"

"I was actually thinking Donna Summer."

Fiorelli chuckled. "You're not a bad guy, Conway."

"Thanks."

"I'm still gonna kill you – but it's only business, nothing personal."

"Naturally."

"Alright – enough talk, fellas," the ref intervened. "Let's play hockey."

The puck dropped, and Charlie seized it before passing ahead to Guy. Guy shimmied and eluded his opposite before turning on the jets. One-on-one, he drew back and made such a convincing fake that the Blake goalie did a belly-flop, leaving a wide open net for Guy to tap the puck into.

1-0, Ducks.

As his linemates embraced Guy, he briefly locked eyes with Connie on the bench, who had been cheering along with the rest of the Ducks. He smiled at her and puckered up for an air kiss, which she readily returned. But as his linemates separated from him, Guy turned and saw Amanda Barry in the stands. The popular brunette smiled and waved at him. With a shy smile, he waved back. Although Connie could not see the recipient of Guy's attention, she felt a tinge of jealousy that startled her.

Back on the ice, as the players lined up for the next faceoff, Scott Fiorelli decided that it had been too long since he had a conversation with Charlie Conway.

"Nice assist there, Conway," he offered. "You sure can move the puck, but can you stop it?"

"Bring it on, Scotty."

Charlie won the faceoff, but the victory was short lived. Fiorelli snatched the puck away, and barreled into the Duck defensive zone with his wingers in moving in along the perimeter. The Blake captain homed in on Goldberg and deked. Responding to Guy's fakery, Fiorelli offered his own bit of hockey deception as he drew in an apparent shot attempt – only to pass backwards to his defenseman on the point.

Now free of the puck, Fiorelli made a bee-line for the Duck goal and got into position on Goldberg's glove side as the Blake defenseman passed ahead to a winger. With his captain now in position, the winger passed to Fiorelli, who immediately fired on Goldberg's glove side - daring the goalie to catch it.

Goldberg misjudged the direction, and rather than catch the puck, it bounced off his kneepad and ricocheted into the net – tying the game at 1 apiece.

 _I would have caught that with my eyes closed,_ Julie sulked from the bench as Blake celebrated.

 _We've got to slow this down,_ Adam thought. His love for Julie notwithstanding, Adam did _not_ trust Greg Goldberg to make an extra save in a high-scoring game.

Adam soon got his chance to slow the game down, as the puck found its way to his new home: the boards. With his size and his stick handling, Adam was firmly in control of the puck whenever it came his way – and he all but sat on it. But as his line drew to the end of its first shift, Adam decided to shake things up a bit.

Throwing a hard elbow into the gut of his Blake opposite, Adam knew that he would draw furious retaliation. As if on command, the Blake forward lunged at Adam and took a swing, prompting an immediate ejection and a Duck powerplay.

 _This 'being an asshole' thing is just too easy,_ Adam smirked as he waved goodbye to his ejected opponent.

"And we have a bit of feistiness from Adam Banks," Josh announced. "He's actually waving goodbye to the guy who almost decked him. People were wondering if they were ever gonna see the mean side of Adam Banks, now it looks like they got it."

Like Pavlov's dogs, Adam Banks salivated whenever a power play was announced. Going up against a team that was shorthanded was like taking candy from a baby – assuming that the candy burglar didn't self-sabotage. Adam's long memory was seared with recollections of hockey teams at all levels getting in their own way and wasting a perfectly good power play.

He shook his head. _Not gonna happen. Nope. Not allowing it._

This time, Guy took and won the faceoff, then sailed it ahead to Charlie. Adam clung to the boards, expecting his captain to launch the puck along them. But Adam froze in a state of shock as he watched Charlie dribble the puck ahead and launch into his famed triple deke.

 _Seriously, Conway?_

Charlie fired and sent the puck out of play, prompting a stoppage. And a death glare from Adam.

"What?" Charlie demanded as they lined up.

"Don't shoot from the toe of the stick," Adam deadpanned. "Unless you _want_ to give our fans souvenirs."

"Ooooh," Scott Fiorelli taunted his opponents. "Trouble in paradise?"

"Shut it," Adam snapped.

"Hey, easy fellas," the ref admonished.

The puck dropped and Fiorelli won the faceoff, sending the puck ahead to a winger, who in turn sent the puck down the boards and into the Duck zone as precious seconds on the power play clock continued to vanish.

Adam took off in hot pursuit of the puck, but was beaten to it by Charlie.

"Forgetting who the center is?" Charlie asked.

Adam turned and headed back into the Blake zone. The Bears wasted no time in forming a protective shield around their net; and seeing the effectiveness of the Blake wall, Charlie decided to play it conservative and dump the puck off to Fulton on the point.

"Shoot, Fulton!" Adam implored. _Your slapshot will make them shit themselves—do it, Fulton!_

Fulton instead made a lateral pass to Mato Martin. Adam was expecting the new Duck to show off the considerable skill that he had observed in practice; but it was not to be. The Duck defensemen clung to the puck just inside the Blake blue line, with the occasional intercepted pass that was sent down the boards and into the Duck zone.

As the power play expired, Adam felt his teeth grind against each other.

"CHANGE IT UP!" Orion barked.

The Duck second line vaulted over the wall as the first line made their way to the bench's gate.

"Nice work, guys," Orion praised his first line. "You got a goal, and you didn't do anything stupid on that power play. You're playing smart, keep it up."

 _Smart?!_ Adam was dumbfounded. _Pissing away golden opportunities, that's smart?!_

He took a big gulp of Gatorade – partly for hydration, and partly to prevent himself from mouthing off.

"Hey, Adam," Charlie began. "What was with that elbow move?"

"Elbow move?"

"You know, when you made Williamson double over on the ice…and he almost got into a fight with you…. _that_ elbow move."

"Oh, _that,"_ Adam smirked. "You see, Charles – do you mind if I call you 'Charles?' Refs are more likely to call a penalty on the guy who retaliates than the guy who instigates."

"Don't you think that's kinda…dirty?"

Adam shrugged. "It secured us a power play. It's not my fault we didn't capitalize on it."

"You got a problem with the way I'm running the offense?"

"Too soon to tell," Adam shrugged again. "But wasting a power play is never a good thing. We'll be chasing that missed opportunity for the rest of the game."

Charlie thought back to the most recent edition of the _Eden Hall Gazette._ Josh had called into question Charlie's hockey IQ, and now Adam was coming close to doing the exact same thing. As Charlie began sensing treachery, Adam thought back to his arrival on the Mighty Ducks all those years ago.

They had been playing against the hapless Cubs, but the game had been a real nail-biter. Adam knew why. It was because proud, pig-headed Jesse Hall wanted to keep the puck away from Adam, and Charlie made zero effort to intervene.

 _Heh, he was a lousy leader back then, too._

Adam took another swig of Gatorade in an effort to keep his thoughts to himself.

The season opener against the Blake Bears proved to be a low-scoring affair, but the low shot totals indicated that the 2-1 score in favor of the Ducks was largely a product of defense, not goaltending. Julie had watched Goldberg with a mixture of jealousy, frustration, and relief – mixed in with a hefty dose of self-loathing for being such a fickle teammate.

Time and time again, the Duck defenders had bailed Goldberg out. Julie had lost count of all the nets that Goldberg had left open. But there was always a Duck body or a Duck stick that had intervened to prevent disaster.

Adam was similarly conflicted. He had wanted to slow the game down after Guy's quick goal, but a wasted power play had always been an unforgivable sin in Adam's eyes. Though the Ducks prevailed in the end, that missed opportunity had tormented Adam throughout the entire game. And the only reason he could imagine why Charlie had taken his foot off the accelerator took him back to that needlessly close game against the Cubs back in Pee Wees.

* * *

"Thanks, man," Adam told Charlie. "But I'm really not hungry."

"But you gotta come, Banks – it's Duck tradition. After every win, we go to Mickey's. My treat."

"You mean _your mother's_ treat?"

"Same difference."

"Anyway, thanks but no thanks."

"Adam, need I remind you…you are an alternate captain. You're a leader. You're supposed to be at team functions, be seen, participate, all that stuff."

"Well, you and Fulton will be there," Adam countered. "So I think the brass is pretty well-represented, don't you?" He spun around as he heard the heavy locker room door slam behind them. "Julie!"

"Hey, guys," she greeted the pair of forwards. "Charlie, would you mind if I skipped the team meal at Mickey's?"

Charlie gave Julie a sympathetic look. Between her benching and her mother's cancer diagnosis, Julie had become the leading recipient of Charlie's pity. But he knew how proud she was, and he tried not to let it show too much.

"You _know_ you'll have to make up for it in practice, don't you?" Charlie grinned.

"Of course," Julie smiled softly.

"Well alright, then. Do what you gotta do."

"Thanks."

"That's settled, then," Adam declared, wrapping an arm around Julie. "We can't go to the team meal."

Julie slid out of Adam's grasp. "Actually, I was hoping for a bit of alone time."

"Oh…alright, then."

"You still have a standing invitation to Mickey's," Charlie assured Adam.

"Nah, I could use some alone time too."

Charlie suppressed a sigh with considerable effort. "Fine. I have to go now. See you guys later."

Julie and Adam said their goodbyes to Charlie, then turned toward each other.

"Walk you back to your dorm?" He offered.

"Sure."

He grasped her hand and was relieved when she didn't pull away, allowing him to interlock his fingers with hers.

"So…" he trailed off.

Adam hated moments like this. He knew three things about these moments: Julie needed him, she would never admit it, and he had no idea what to do about it.

"So," Julie repeated.

"Any news from home?"

"Mom has begun treatment. Apparently it's hit her like a ton of bricks."

"I'm so sorry."

"Why?" Julie asked. "It's not like you gave her cancer."

"Well, it's just…"

"She'll pull through," Julie insisted. "And as much as I wish she wasn't going through this, it would be nice if people stopped telling me how sorry they are – like I'm some poor, helpless thing."

"But you kind of are."

Julie stopped in her tracks and glared at Adam.

"I don't mean that negatively," he offered. "But Julie, your mom has a horrible disease. If you _don't_ feel helpless, then _that's_ messed up."

She turned away from him as she felt her eyes moisten.

He grasped her by the chin and gently turned her to face him. She was astonished to see him tear up, and the sight of those sad sapphires caused Julie to release the floodgates. She buried her face into his chest and sobbed.

"I've been such a terrible daughter," she declared. "All I ever did was try to get away from my mom, and fight with her when I couldn't."

"She loves you," he assured her. "You know that, right?"

"Of course I know that!" Julie snapped. "You think that makes it _easier?"_

"I…I thought it would."

Julie laughed in spite of herself. Her boyfriend's sweet but emotionally clumsy nature had a way of taking the edge off.

"Oh, Adam," she said. "I barely know her. And…" _I might lose her,_ she didn't say out loud.

"You call her, right?"

"Of course. Every day since…you know."

"Well, there may be other things you can do to get to know her."

"Like what?"

"Remember that book of hers you left at my family's cabin?" Adam asked. "It's still there. Have you ever read it?"

When Karen Gaffney had achieved her lifelong ambition of becoming a published author, it had never occurred to Julie to read her mother's tome, and Adam's suggestion startled her.

"No, but I'd really like to."

Adam smiled. "Well, with Ken off celebrating with the team and not on a hot date, I actually have use of my car."

Julie giggled. "Road trip?"

"Only if you don't need the alone time anymore."

"I think we're good."

"Good." Adam wrapped his arm around Julie's waist and led her to his Range Rover.


	8. All of the Above

**Chapter Eight: All of the Above**

Julie and Adam arrived at the cabin as the sun began to set over the lake, but rather than enjoy nature's modest-but-lovely show, the young couple got to work – Adam building a fire, and Julie rifling through the pantry in search of food.

"Hope you like soup," she said.

"I like it enough," Adam replied. "All that canned stuff is from Dad. He likes to come up here to get away from it all, and he doesn't want to cook anything complicated, so he stocks up on soup as if he was building a bomb shelter."

"Or if he was a millennial survivalist."

"Heh, yeah. Y2k is gonna kill the computers first, then come for us."

Tending to the small fire in the stone fireplace, Adam shifted a log that swiftly went ablaze.

"But I can build a fire," he pointed out. "So as long as you stick with me, you'll survive the collapse of civilization."

"I'll keep that in mind."

With the flame steadily building, Adam left the fire and joined Julie in the kitchen as she opened a can of soup.

"Shall we cook this the survivalist way?" She asked. "Or should we enjoy the microwave while we still have electricity?"

He pressed himself against her from behind and wrapped his arms around her waist. "Part of surviving Y2k will involve repopulating the earth."

"Easy, there," she separated from him. "Do you guys have a cauldron?"

He shrugged. "As much of a witch as my mother can be, I doubt it."

"Adam that's horrible!"

"Sorry," he offered, even as he pictured Charlotte on a broomstick.

"But I guess the answer is 'No,' so microwave it is then." Julie poured the soup into a bowl and placed it in the microwave. "You guys got any crackers?"

"Is that a rhetorical question?"

Julie returned to the pantry and discovered row after row of saltines, Cheez-its, Wheat Thins, Triscuits, Ritz crackers, club crackers, and water crackers.

"I guess when you have only two food groups, you can have a lot of variety within them," she chortled.

"Indeed," Adam agreed. "You should check out all the different pops we have in the fridge. It looks like a friggin' rainbow in there."

Julie chuckled. The more time she spent in the cabin, the more she felt the presence of Philip Banks. And the more of her boyfriend she could see in him.

"Why do I get the feeling that the cellar in your future house will contain more soda than wine?" She asked.

"Because it's way tastier."

"Heh, good point."

"And don't you mean _our_ future house?"

The question startled her. "Oh, sure. I mean, you never know."

Her response startled _him_ even more. After quietly pining for Julie for what felt like eternity, Adam finally had her, and they were so perfect together. It never occurred to him that they would ever go their separate ways. Even if they ended up going to different colleges, Adam felt that they had more than enough in the 'relationship bank,' to endure a long distance relationship.

"Anyway, here you go," Julie nodded toward a bowl of soup. "You're obviously more of a cracker connoisseur than I am, so I'll leave the selection to you."

"Thanks," Adam chuckled. "Wanna leave the pop pairing to me too?"

"But of course."

The couple took their chicken noodle soup and Triscuits into the dining room. Adam suggested a Sprite pairing, as cola would have overwhelmed the light dish, and the caffeine was not suitable for the time of day.

As Julie took her seat across from Adam, she was struck by the black-and-white hockey pictures that adorned the oak-paneled walls. Some of the photos were of teams – and judging by the hairstyles, teams that appeared to be from the 1970s. But other photos featured a strikingly handsome young man, whose intense blue eyes were noticeable even in black and white.

Adam caught Julie staring and chuckled. "Yep. That's Dad. Crazy, right?"

"I had no idea he played hockey."

"Oh yeah," Adam nodded. "Hockey was his ticket out of the trailer park. It got him a college scholarship, where he met Mother, and from there he went to law school. And the rest is history."

That bit of family history surprised Julie. She had always assumed that both sides of Adam's family had vast fortunes dating back to the reign of Charlemagne.

"I think that's why Dad pushed Michael and me into hockey," Adam continued. "It did so much to help him move up in the world, I guess he thinks it can do the same for us. And Eric is such a brainiac, he doesn't need hockey. Which is good, because he really sucks at it."

Julie chuckled. "I guess I never figured a woman like your mom would go for a guy like your dad."

Adam shrugged. "I doubt most people figured that. Hell, _I_ can't figure it sometimes. Opposites attract, I guess? That and I think my mother enjoyed horrifying her parents – who were the most obnoxious snobs on God's green earth.

"Dad still tells the story about when he met his future in-laws. He had brought them trout that he had caught, gutted, and filleted himself. Rushton, my grandfather, was unimpressed. He couldn't imagine why his daughter was dating the help."

"I guess your mom was a bit of a rebel in her day."

"I never really looked at it that way, but yeah, I guess she was. God knows what happened to her in the years since," Adam chortled. "What about your parents? They seemed pretty cool in Ithaca. Were they always that way?"

"I guess they were," Julie shrugged. "My dad was the coolest guy at Bangor High. Great goalie and a funny, likable guy. Very outgoing. When he had the accident that shattered his knee, he had to quit hockey and focus on his business degree. But I think he got into consulting more out of his personality than his education.

"And Mom? Mom…well, that's who I'm here to learn about, remember?"

Adam smiled at the symmetry of the situation – Julie going to a Banks residence to learn more about her own family, as if the Banks and Gaffney families were meant to be joined.

"You must know _something_ about her," he prodded. "Or the way she was."

"She's very quiet and bookish," Julie shrugged. "Maybe she was always that way? I guess that's another example of opposites attracting. If all these opposites keep attracting, I guess that means we're doomed, right?"

Adam forced himself to laugh. "Yeah, why would the perfect couple ever stay together?"

"We're not so perfect. So maybe we have a chance after all."

"And on that note, what would you like for dessert? Twinkies, Little-Debbies, Ho hos, Oreos, or Chips A'hoy cookies?"

"The agony of choice," Julie chortled. "Again, I defer to your judgment."

* * *

With the addition of another log and a bit of shifting, Adam prolonged the life of the fire he built as Julie settled in on the couch with her mother's novel, _All of the Above._

Given the thickness and the heft of the book, Julie could not imagine a more perfect title.

Adam planted himself next to Julie and turned on the TV. The cabin was far enough north to pick up Canadian TV, and Adam eagerly tuned to _Hockey Night in Canada._ Part of what made the Canadian coverage more entertaining than the American was seeing what ridiculous outfit Don Cherry would wear, and the grumpy old clown always managed to exceed Adam's expectations for the loudness of his clothes.

"Adam, do you mind?" Julie asked. "It's hard to read with all this background noise."

"Oh, sorry." He turned off the TV and sighed.

As Julie returned her attention to Karen's novel, Adam got up and approached the living room's bookshelf. Despite being Philip's cabin in nearly every conceivable way, the bookshelf screamed Charlotte. The Banks matriarch insisted on _some_ civilization in her husband's private retreat, and the classics of English literature were well-represented on this bookshelf in the middle of the woods.

The volumes all had no visible wear on them, so in a way, Philip managed to leave his own mark on the bookshelf by not going anywhere near it.

 _No Tom Clancy in sight,_ Adam thought unhappily.

Perusing the shelves, Adam discovered plenty of books with familiar titles and unfamiliar content. These were the great novels that a person of any sophistication was expected to read and quote. Adam decided that he would rather be a hockey-playing yokel.

Leaving Julie behind, he made his way to the master bedroom and turned on the TV that sat on top of the bureau. Settling in on top of the bed, Adam was mildly disappointed that he missed Don Cherry, but was delighted to see the beginning of the NHL season. And the powers that be had picked a doozy with the Montreal Canadiens facing off against their arch rival Boston Bruins.

"Hey, Julie!" Adam called out. "The Bruins are playing!"

"Nice try!" She called back.

"Suit yourself!"

In the living room, Julie turned the TV back on and set it to mute before returning to _All of the Above._

* * *

One hundred and fifty pages into her mother's book, Julie decided to call it a night. She was surprised by how much of her attention it had captured – she had only snuck a couple of peeks at the hockey game, and the performance of her beloved Bruins made it much easier for Julie to get into the novel.

Julie was unsure if Karen's book was meant to be semi-autobiographical, but she doubted it. The protagonist, a woman named Heather Jones, was a type-A personality who had set up a latter day Underground Railroad, guiding young American men to Canada to escape the Vietnam draft. She had been moved to act in such a bold and borderline illegal way when her sweetheart returned home from Southeast Asia in a flag-draped casket.

 _Did Mom have someone else?_ Julie wondered.

But even if Karen had known love before Steven Gaffney, Julie could not imagine her mother acting in such a risky and defiant way. Then again, Julie doubted that the novel was autobiographical.

Still, it was a novel that Julie could see herself completing even if the author had been someone other than her mother. Heather Jones was a compelling and sympathetic figure, and Julie still had most of her story left to read.

The fire that Adam built had long since burned out, and Julie realized just how cold and tired she was.

 _Time for nice, warm bed. With Adam,_ she thought happily.

Julie turned off the living room TV and made her way to the dark master bedroom, where Adam was sound asleep. Sliding out of her jeans and undoing her bra beneath her T-shirt, Julie peeled the comforter and sheets off the unoccupied side of the bed and got in next to Adam. She turned and kissed his cheek, but drew no response.

 _Out cold,_ she observed before spooning herself against him. _But still so warm._

* * *

Being first to bed, Adam was first to rise, and he wasted no time in showering and shaving. As he finished applying the bay rum aftershave to his face, he saw Julie in the mirror.

"Morning, handsome."

"Morning, sleepy head."

"What can I say? Turns out my mom is a really good writer."

"Tsk, tsk," Adam shook his head in mock disapproval. "Up all hours of the night reading, what am I gonna do with such a wild thing?"

"Make mad, passionate love?"

Adam's eyes widened. "Sure."

Julie laughed out loud. "Maybe later. I gotta get cleaned up first. Aren't we going to breakfast? You said there's a nice little place in town."

"Of course," Adam agreed. "Fisherman's Cove. Best restaurant in town, considering it's the only one."

Julie got up on her tiptoes. "Then you can't have me being all ugly and smelly," she pecked him on the cheek. "Especially when you're so gorgeous and…aromatic."

Adam kissed her back on the forehead. "Note the date, October 11, 1998: the first time in recorded history that 'aromatic,' was used as a compliment."

He turned and made his way out of the bathroom, but as he made his way into the living room, he realized that he was walking into potentially fatal mistake. The tiny lakeside village knew all of its residents by name, and the people at Fisherman's Cove would recognize the middle son of Philip Banks in a heartbeat. They would wonder what he was doing up at the lake, alone with a pretty girl. And word would get back to the old man himself.

The thought made Adam bitter. It would have been one thing if his parents had been upset over him having sex with Julie, but it been a chaste weekend, and it was unlikely to get impious. The couple still needed to drive back to Eden Hall in time for class the next day, thus limiting their time for frivolities. But that was a problem for the future – right now he had more pressing concerns.

After applying a generous dollop of Curel where it was needed, Adam made his way to the guest room – the room that he had shared with brothers Michael and Eric on many a weekend prior. The room was furnished with two bunk beds, as their parents had not wanted any of their sons to get a single, 'special' bed.

Adam settled in on the lower bunk that had been mostly vacant. Eric had occupied the top bunk, while Michael and Adam shared the opposite bunk bed.

Somehow, the fact that hardly anyone had ever slept in this particular bunk made Adam's task much easier.

He closed his eyes, and was instantly brought to Julie in the shower, thus making short work of his task. As he reached for a tissue, he heard the water from the shower cease.

"Whew!" He exclaimed after his furious exertions. "I wonder if it was as good for her."

With the considerable relief that comes with a clear head, Adam made his way to the living room and took a seat on the couch. He observed a bookmark poking out of Karen Gaffney's tome, and it struck Adam that for all of Julie's reading the previous night, she still had a very long way to go.

Several minutes later, Julie emerged from the master bedroom.

As much as he loved her blonde hair, Adam found the darkness of her wet hair stunning. It made her bright green eyes all the more noticeable. Had he not taken care of business earlier, he would have found it difficult to keep her hands off of her.

"Ready to go?" She asked.

"Uh, about that…why go out when we have such a rich assortment of breakfast cereals?"

Julie cocked an eyebrow.

"It's just that, well," Adam stammered. "It's a small town, and everyone talks. Word's gonna get back to Dad that I was up here with you."

Julie looked hurt. "But I thought you loved me."

"I do, I do!" He insisted. "But I gotta pick my battles, you know that."

Julie smiled mischievously. "Yes, I know that."

A relieved grin lit up Adam's face. "You win this round, Gaffney."

With a triumphant smirk, Julie made her way past her boyfriend and into the pantry. "Let's see what we got here…ooh, Lucky Charms! The leprechaun on the commercials always makes me think of Charlie for some reason."

Adam chuckled. "I never thought of Charlie that way before, but it makes perfect sense."

"Lucky Charms for two?"

"Sure."

Julie poured the cereal into two bowls and couldn't help but smile at the image of Philip Banks in a bathrobe chowing down on a bowl of the sugary kids' cereal.

 _I guess you can never judge a book by its cover._

"You guys don't have any milk?" She asked.

Adam shook his head. "Too short a shelf-life. What kind of survivalist are you, anyway?"

"Enough of one to see the value in powdered milk."

"Really? I can't even say 'powdered milk' without gagging."

"Your fire-building skills notwithstanding, you'll have to learn to love powdered milk if you are to survive Y2k."

"Why do people even _want_ to live after the apocalypse?" Adam asked. "It sounds awful. The people who fight to survive in such a dump are suckers, if you ask me."

Julie shrugged. "I guess the prospect of all that violence and sex is enough to keep them going."

"Well, when you put it that way…"

Julie giggled. "Y2k or not, you're a one woman man though."

"As long as you're fertile," Adam said solemnly. "The future of humanity will depend on it."

"Don't worry, if we're the last two people on earth, we'll make it work."

"Future generations of scientists, artists, athletes, engineers, and statesmen thank you."

Julie rolled her eyes. "Anyway, getting back to leprechauns, how do you think Charlie and the gang are doing?"

"Probably enjoying their victory," Adam shrugged. "Especially since I'm not there to critique our performance."

"Speaking of critiquing…be honest. Do you think Goldberg will last?"

Adam arched an eyebrow. Goldberg had always been the more disloyal goalie, and his unsuccessful attempt to fatten Julie up during their freshman year was not exactly a model of teamsmanship. Julie, on the other hand, was too dutiful and diligent to resort to subterfuge, or wish failure on a teammate.

"Honestly?" Adam asked. "No. Goldberg can't keep having performances like that, because our defense isn't good enough to keep bailing him out for sixty minutes. And our offense and our power play unit isn't explosive enough to give our defense any cushion.

"Do I think he'll last? No. Do I think this season will be difficult? Absolutely."

"Hooray," Julie said meekly.

Adam chuckled. "Sorry if I sound a little pessimistic. I just don't think we're as good as advertised. But we may be _good enough,_ if we make some adjustments."

The couple ate the rest of their cereal in silence. From the moment she was benched, all Julie wanted was to regain her starting spot; but if the Ducks' prospects were as bleak as Adam thought, Julie would be inheriting a poisoned chalice.

 _On the other hand…I could be the one who rides in to save the day, and the season._

"We better clean this place up," Adam suggested, rising from the table. "Make it look like we were never here."

* * *

As the Range Rover made its way south on the Interstate on its return journey to Eden Hall, Adam was astonished to see Julie completely absorbed by her mother's novel.

"Aren't you feeling nauseous?" He asked. "You know, the text and the moving vehicle and all?"

"Huh? Oh. No, I'm fine."

"I guess I'll leave you to it then."

Adam had been a good sport and kept both the radio and CD player off, leaving the dull hum of the engine and the light rain pressing against the windshield as the only noises that could distract Julie. But an hour's drive in silence was unnerving to him. And their couple's weekend had been low on romance. He hoped that Julie would finish Karen's tome as quickly as possible and resume being his amazing girlfriend. The increasingly absent Julie was far less to Adam's liking.

Julie, on the other hand, became more convinced that she was reading about her mother. The entrance of a jovial and gregarious man named 'Sam' into the story brought Julie's mind to her father Steven. Julie devoured the chapter on Heather and Sam's first dates, how deliriously happy they made Heather, and how frightfully guilty they made Heather feel when she realized how much her happiness had cost the cause.

As Julie continued to read, Heather's growing ambivalence about her relationship with Sam had the effect of nearly strangling it at birth.

Julie read on in eager determination to discover what intervention of fate would bring Heather and Sam – or Karen and Steven – back together.


	9. Everybody Loves a Winner

**Chapter Nine: Everybody Loves a Winner**

 _Eden Hall Gazette, October 12, 1998_

 **HAIL, MIGHTY DUCKS**

 **Hockey teams make statement on Opening Day**

By: Josh Woodward, Sports Reporter

The JV and Varsity hockey teams began their seasons on a positive note, to the tune of the Pep Band's _Hail, Warriors,_ with JV outscoring their opponents in a shootout, and Varsity surviving the Blake onslaught in a squeaker. But if the old Warrior fight song affected the Mighty Ducks, it appeared to be for the better, even if the football team objects to its use.

Winger Guy Germaine scored the lone goal in the Varsity effort, with captain Charlie Conway earning the assist. From an offensive perspective, it was a quiet game for Adam Banks, and he still appears to be adjusting from his move to the wing, but the alternate captain showed considerable grit and nastiness along the boards.

Greg Goldberg had an effective, if uninspiring performance in the net. But with a defense as smothering as Varsity's, the Ducks don't need a hero between the pipes.

With the hated Blake Bears making a return to Eden Hall this Friday, this time in the form of an undefeated football team, most Eden Hall sports fans will have our Varsity football team in their thoughts. They have already had their season marred by a loss, so they are not playing for perfection, only to deny their rivals such an honor for themselves.

But for the time being, the Varsity and JV hockey teams can hold their heads high…even while _Hail, Warriors_ drowns out their quacking.

* * *

 _We have_ got _to get our own fight song,_ Charlie thought as he pushed his copy of the _Gazette_ aside. From his seat in the dining hall, he observed Linda laughing with Chet Grayson, backup quarterback for the Varsity football team.

"I guess their fight song isn't so offensive anymore," Charlie grumbled.

"Who are you talking to, Charlie?" Connie set her tray down opposite the captain.

"Huh? Oh, hey Connie. I was just thinking, we need to get our own fight song."

"I couldn't agree more. Any ideas?"

"Not really. But as long as the band keeps playing that dumb Warrior song, we're gonna look like the pathetic little brothers of the football team."

"How about the Marseillaise?" Connie suggested. "Stirring, catchy, and _extremely_ violent, what with its calls to arms and its talk of watering furrows with impure blood."

"Maybe a little _too_ intense," Charlie grinned. "But you're thinking, I like that. Where's Guy, anyway?"

Connie nodded in the direction of the Beautiful People. "Taking in his hero's welcome. He scored the winning goal, after all."

"Ah." Charlie observed the pack of gorgeous, giggling girls fawning over his winger, led by Amanda Barry. "And you're cool with that?"

"Of course I am."

 _Too insistent,_ Charlie thought. "Well, if _the Hero_ is too busy, you can always hang out with me."

"Are you asking me out?"

"No!"

 _Too insistent,_ Connie thought. "Then why not? Maybe we _should_ hang out."

"Pick you up at eight, then?"

Connie had taken a sip of milk, which promptly made its way down her nostrils and onto the table as she giggled. "Shit."

As Connie's face turned scarlet, Charlie quietly cleaned the mess with a stack of paper napkins. She hadn't been about to laugh at her friend's obvious joke, but Charlie's roguish grin sealed her fate. It was moments like this when she forgot that Charlie Conway had been her goofy, wild-haired friend since the age of six.

"Another experiment gone wrong?" Adam asked Charlie, setting his tray down.

"Yeah, I wanted to see if I liked the taste of milk going down my nose better than I like it going down my throat," Charlie said before winking at Connie. "So…the road warrior returns."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," Adam waved away Charlie's teasing accusation. "I'm sorry about skipping the team meal at Mickey's. That's the last time it'll happen."

"Good," Charlie nodded. "Well, did you at least put your time to good use?"

But Adam had been too annoyed by his disappointing weekend to even be embarrassed by the question.

"Julie spent the entire time reading like a librarian who was about to lose her eyesight," he said bitterly.

"Ouch."

Adam shrugged. "On the plus side, she's only got nine hundred-something pages to go."

"So Adam," Connie moved to steer the conversation away from guy talk. "Charlie and I were talking about how much the Ducks need our own fight song."

"I don't know," Adam shrugged again. _"Hail, Warriors_ is pretty badass."

"It's not our song," Charlie shot back.

"Hey guys," Julie greeted her friends, taking her seat next to Adam. "What's not our song?"

" _Hail, Warriors,"_ Adam explained. "Even that little bit of school tradition needs to be wiped away, apparently."

"Well it doesn't really have anything to do with the Ducks," Julie pointed out. "Do the Red Sox play _New York, New York_ at Fenway?"

"Maybe they'd actually win a World Series if they did," Adam chuckled.

Julie glared at him. "Anyway," she continued. "I agree, we need our own song."

"Any thoughts?" Charlie asked.

Julie thought for a minute, twirling her fork. "How about the _Brass Bonanza?"_

Adam nodded. "Not bad. And it's not like the Whalers need it anymore."

"I don't think I've heard that one," Connie said.

"The Hartford Whalers used to play it when they scored at home," Julie explained. "I heard it when my brother Junior was looking at colleges in Connecticut and Dad took us to a Whalers game."

"It's catchy," Adam agreed. "Very retro, but that's not the sort of thing I object to."

"I'll have to find a tape or a CD of it somewhere," Charlie said.

"I can hook you up," Adam offered.

"Of course you can," Charlie chortled. "Your room at home is like a hockey museum."

"You know, I don't think I've seen your bedroom in Edina," Julie pointed out. "Even last year when I slept over. Isn't that weird?"

"That doesn't need to be a 'forever' thing," Adam eagerly pointed out.

"No, but I still have _a ton_ of reading to do."

"Of course." Adam's smile gave him the appearance of having bitten into a lemon.

As Charlie enjoyed a guilty laugh at Adam's expense, he felt a tap on the shoulder. He spun around to see a gloomy Linda Tompkins.

"Hey, Charlie," she greeted him flatly. "We need to talk. Can we go for a walk?"

He nodded, then got to his feet as his teammates pointedly looked away.

Connie eventually looked up and followed the pair with her eyes, a feeling of disgust toward Linda coming as a shock to her. She had never felt much of _anything_ – good or bad – toward Charlie's girlfriend, but now things were different.

* * *

"The NHL really screwed Hartford," Adam declared as Julie retrieved some textbooks from her locker. "They allowed the Whalers' scumbag owner to only sell tickets in expensive bundles, not individually. Even as Whaler fans packed the arena, the owner still complained that the fans weren't buying, so the NHL allowed him to move the team to Carolina."

"Yes, I know the history," Julie reminded him.

"Heh, sorry. I guess all that talk of the _Brass Bonanza_ lit a fire under me. That suggestion of yours was a good one."

"Thanks," Julie smiled. "So are you taking me to Homecoming?"

Adam nodded reluctantly. "Yeah. I don't want to go, but it would look really bad if I didn't."

"Now if that isn't a great pitch for a date, I don't know what is."

"Heh, yeah - sorry. But wouldn't you rather stay in…and cuddle?"

"Football isn't such a boring sport," Julie said. "Besides, wouldn't it be nice to take in a game where the pressure is on someone else for a change?"

"Good point."

As the bell rang, Adam grasped Julie's waist and gave her a light kiss on the lips. Given that the couple's next classes were on opposite ends of the building, they had to go their separate ways.

"See you at practice."

"Yep, see ya then," Julie agreed.

As Adam disappeared from view, Julie smelled a presence.

"Such a gallant and classy gentleman," Stacy Andersen declared. "Close to a hundred girls at this school would give anything to have what you have."

Julie chuckled. "Yeah, I guess he's not so bad."

Enough time had passed, and Julie was no longer sore about the _Gazette's_ revelation of her benching in Goldberg's favor. Still, the fact that Stacy was willing to embarrass Julie for the sake of a good story had come as a nasty surprise, especially given how friendly the editor had been to Julie at Ashley's election party.

Reading her target's thoughts, Stacy flashed an easy smile.

"I _do_ hope that you're not holding that little article against me, even though you had every right to be mad at me," Stacy offered. "Still, the news was going to get out eventually, and all things considered, I think we handled it very gently and very tactfully."

"If that's your idea of an apology, I guess I accept it."

"Splendid! Julie, do you mind if we walk and talk?"

The goalie shrugged before slamming her locker shut. "It's a free country. Or so they claim."

Stacy matched Julie's stride with an ease that surprised the slimmer, more athletic girl.

"I'm so glad I caught up to you," Stacy declared. "I've been desperate to run a profile of you in the paper for the longest time. Julie 'the Cat' Gaffney. Eden Hall's own lioness."

Julie chuckled at the grandiose tag.

"It's true!" Stacy insisted. "Apart from Adam and the Bash Brothers, nobody on the Ducks has as many fans as you. Sure, Guy is the flavor of the week with that goal of his, but you and I both know that's not gonna last. _You_ are an icon, Julie.

"And the fact that you have to play backup to some mediocre oaf is a scandal!"

"Yeah, well you're not the head coach, so you can't do anything about it."

"I can't, can I?" Stacy huffed. "I have influence, and more importantly, I have my finger on the pulse of the student body. I know exactly what they want, and Greg Goldberg isn't it."

"Goldberg earned the starting spot," Julie protested. "For now, anyway."

"That's right!" Stacy agreed. _"For now._ Then we're on the same page."

"I'll win the starting spot back, don't you worry. But I'm not gonna resort to anything dirty or underhanded. I'll let my play speak for itself."

"And that's just one of the many reasons why your peers love you, Julie. Your unimpeachable ethics. No one resents your good looks or your talent, because you don't use them in a selfish or cruel way.

"I personally would admire you a lot less if you were just another bitchy, back-stabbing Beautiful Person. You _deserve_ to have your story out there, to be admired. And my readers deserve to have their noble heroine come out from the shadows."

Julie knew that Stacy was laying it on thick, but the goalie liked it.

"And you won't write anything nasty about Goldberg?" She asked.

"Of course not. This profile is all about you. It will be a positive exposition, and it will do both you _and_ Goldberg justice because there won't be a word of malice or dishonesty to it."

"Well…as long as you're not tearing anyone down, I guess it wouldn't hurt to build me up."

"Exactly!" The pair stopped outside Julie's next class. "I knew we'd have an understanding."

"Excuse me," Les Averman scooted past them and into the classroom.

Stacy handed Julie one of her famous pink index cards. "Whenever you're ready to share your story, give me a call."

Julie slid the card into her bag with a nod. "Thanks."

As Stacy took her leave, Julie entered the classroom and made her way to the empty seat next to Averman. Despite the fact that they were no longer teammates, Julie liked to sit next to Averman, given that he was the only familiar face in their advanced math class.

"Hey, Les."

"Julie," Averman nodded. "Keeping everything on the up and up?"

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"I saw you talking to that walking Macy's fragrance department," Averman chortled. "You know what I think of whenever Stacy comes wafting by?"

"No, but I'm sure you won't keep me in suspense."

"Goldfinger," Averman replied. "Well, the theme tune anyway."

Julie rolled her eyes.

"Goooold-fing-ger!" Averman belted out. "He's the man, the man with the Midas touch. A spi-der's touch. SUCH a coooold fing-ger."

"I sense there's a point to this?"

"Golden words he will pour in your ear, but his lies can't disguise what you feeear!"

"Ah. You think Stacy's manipulating me. Well, I can handle myself."

"I know you can, Julie. Just be careful, that's all I ask."

* * *

With the arrival of October 14th, Connie Moreau became the latest Duck to join the Sweet Sixteen Club, and she wasted no time getting to the DMV to pick up her learner's permit. It was a tight schedule, but she was determined to be a licensed driver before the onslaught of Minnesota's winter.

Guy had been swamped with schoolwork and had been unable to drive Connie to the DMV, but he promised that they would be together on her birthday. So the duty of driving Connie fell to Charlie, who, given his tendencies, had been eager to get out of the dorm after Linda had dumped him. And the Duck captain found his old friend agreeable company.

"I never wanted to say it while you were together," Connie declared. "But I never thought she was right for you."

"Yeah, that seems pretty obvious now. But you know what _really_ sucks?"

"What?"

"Nah, it's stupid."

"I'm sure it's not," Connie insisted. "Come on, tell me."

"Heh, it's just that…why couldn't _I_ be the one to breakup with _her?"_

Connie shrugged. "My guess is because you didn't want to hurt her. Deep down you don't mind being dumped, because that means you're not the bad guy."

"I guess."

"Okay, maybe you _do_ mind being dumped just a little. But that's because you're human. You'll get over her soon enough."

"Thanks. Hey, maybe we should prep for the test."

"Okay, sure."

"What does it mean when the line down the middle of the road is solid on one side, but broken up into dashes on the other?"

"If you're driving on the side of the dashes, you can pass," Connie answered. "But if you're driving on the solid side, you can't."

"Good. What about…"

As Charlie rattled off questions and listened to Connie's answers, he wondered why he was left performing this very boyfriend-like role with his friend. Sure, Guy was busy with schoolwork, but so were all of the Ducks. Charlie had been warned going into junior year that academics were about to become far more demanding than they had previously been.

Between the increased coursework and the looming specter of the SAT's, Charlie had never stressed so much about schoolwork, but he still found time for his friends. He eventually brought his Chevy Suburban to a halt in the DMV parking lot.

"Think I'll do alright?" Connie asked.

"I know you'll crush it."

"Thanks."

As Connie flashed a grateful smile, Charlie felt his heart skip a beat, and immediately frowned.

"What?" She asked, now concerned.

"Oh, nothing. Just the after effects of lunch, I guess."

"Aww," Connie frowned. "Good thing you have that nice big backseat. Maybe you should lay down while I take the test."

"Good thinking," he nodded.

"Wish me luck!"

"Good luck!"

Charlie exhaled loudly as Connie exited the vehicle and disappeared into the building. Now single, Charlie could add "being in a world of trouble" to his growing list of concerns.

* * *

The air had a distinct bite on Friday night as the Eden Hall faithful gathered in the bleachers at the stadium ahead of Homecoming. Being one of the biggest nights of the school year, Stacy had ensured that each and every one of her reporters was at the game. Far more than football was at stake.

Her readers would want to know who was at the game, with whom, and where they sat. Fashion readers would devour any morsel about clothing that they could get their hands on – even if the brisk October weather put a limit on what could be comfortably worn. Gossip readers would look to see which new couples made their public debut in the stands. Campus royalty would leave no page unread until they saw their names in print, and where that left them in the ever-changing social heap.

Stacy earned a respectful nod from Julie as the goalie made her way up into the stands with Adam.

 _Our favorite couple is wearing Warrior red. Not too much tension from the hockey team, I guess._

The newspaper editor was far more surprised to see politically correct busybody Linda Tompkins in an actual Warriors sweater.

 _I guess it's not racist when you're being plowed by the backup quarterback._

Stacy's eyes widened as she observed Connie and Guy walking hand-in-hand.

 _Guy Germaine hanging out with his actual girlfriend? We may just have our front page story._

Throughout the run-up to the game, various figures from various cliques had approached Stacy and offered her their respect. Some were desperate for a good word, while others wanted the unsparing gaze of the _Gazette_ trained away from them. But Stacy kept her admirers and supplicants moving. She was on duty, and she was determined not to miss any detail that was fit to print.

* * *

The rivalry game had lived up to its billing, with the visiting Blake Bears and the Eden Hall Warriors smacking each other around with the ferocity of players who were playing their final game. For many, that would be the case.

At the start of the 4th quarter, the blood-and-turf-stained rivals found themselves tied at 20.

Senior Dave Walters of Eden Hall had left all that he had on the field. Prior to suiting up that evening, he had spurned offers from various schools and had confirmed his acceptance of an appointment as a midshipman to the United States Naval Academy. With plans to be commissioned a lieutenant in the Marine Corps, Walters could lose the final game of his high school career and still be a hero.

But someone had forgotten to tell _him_ that.

As his receivers struggled to achieve separation from the Blake secondary, Walters slipped and slid around the pocket to buy them time, relinquishing control of the ball only when he had an open man. Time and time again, he stood and fired a rocket as Blake defenders swarmed him and planted him on the cold, pitiless ground.

But an Eden Hall receiver stood triumphant in the end zone every time.

The latest touchdown celebration was cut short, however, when Walters' teammates realized that he hadn't gotten up.

A pall fell over the home crowd as paramedics raced toward the injured young man. Only when their hero flashed a weak thumbs-up from the stretcher did any sign of life issue from the crowd. As the crowd cheered, the pep band launched into a stirring rendition of _Hail, Warriors,_ and on the Warrior sideline, a lust for revenge swept over the remaining players.

The Eden Hall defense pounded Blake into a humiliating three and out on the following drive; and with Chet Grayson now under center for the Warriors, the offense proceeded to make mincemeat out of their hapless defenders.

As Linda's new boyfriend lit up the night sky with dazzling deep balls, the Warriors trounced the Bears in a 48-20 blowout, in what had only a few short minutes earlier been a close game.

And as Eden Hall's newest hero left the field on the shoulders of his teammates, Charlie Conway felt his stomach turn.


	10. 500

**Chapter Ten: 500**

With a road game the following day, the Varsity Ducks did not have time to participate in the post-Homecoming celebrations, but that was just as well. Homecoming had been the football team's triumph, not theirs, and the varsity football team in many ways represented the old guard at Eden Hall. Pretending to be friendly with them would have been a bit much.

After calling the roll, Orion turned to the bus driver and gave her a nod. With a few labored turns of the key, the silver-and-red bus from the 1950s sputtered to life and began to roll out of the parking lot at the Eden Hall Athletic Complex. Orion took his seat next to his assistant coach, Carl Stanek, with a nod. For old school athletes like Orion and Stanek, a solemn nod was always preferable to a friendly "hello" or "hey," which just seemed too effusive.

"Morning, Coach," Stanek greeted his boss.

"Morning, Stanek."

"It was smart of you to have Portman and Reed practice together," Stanek offered. "This game is going to be won on the strength of our defensemen, and…"

"I'm keeping Reed and Martin together."

"Ah."

"With Highland Park's D-men, we need to match speed with speed, and strength with strength."

"Right," Stanek nodded in disagreeing acceptance. "By the way, have you been in touch with Coach Bombay?"

"Not within the last twenty-four hours, no. You?"

"Nope."

Orion gave Stanek a paper thin smile. "He's a big boy, Carl. He can handle himself."

"If you say so."

With his round face and soft midsection, Carl Stanek had long represented the kinder, gentler side of Eden Hall hockey. After serving under the brutish and tyrannical Ron Wilson, Stanek had been expected by many to be the new head coach of Varsity. But coming off a championship year in JV, Ted Orion was seen by the Trustees as the right man to restore discipline to a Varsity team that had went off the rails.

Now, Stanek reprised his familiar role as mother hen of the hockey program.

"Anyway, about Highland Park's second line wingers…"

Toward the middle of the bus, the newly single Charlie Conway found himself under the tutelage of Luis Mendoza, but Captain Duck struggled to pay attention to the pearls of erotic wisdom that were on offer. His eyes kept drifting back to Connie Moreau, but he only noticed this uncomfortable fact whenever Luis snapped him back to attention.

"Hey, Conway! Over here!"

"Huh, oh. Sorry, Luis."

"That Linda bitch really did a number on you, didn't she?"

"As a dog lover, I find that comparison offensive, Luis."

The Floridian laughed out loud. "Nice one, Conway. You're on the road to recovery already."

As Luis continued to speak, Charlie's gaze drifted back to Connie. _How did I never notice her like this before?_

"..it's gonna be awesome, man," Luis enthused.

"Uh, sorry?"

"The _party,_ man!"

"Oh, right. I don't know, Luis. What if we lose today? I won't be in any mood to party."

"First of all, we're not _gonna_ lose," Luis insisted. "And second, even if we do, you gotta learn to compartmentalize your emotions – like the serial killers."

" _What?!"_

"Hey, I'm not saying go out and kill a bunch of people," Luis huffed. "Don't twist my words like that, man. I'm just saying, serial killers aren't out serial killing twenty-four/seven. They have day jobs. They gotta get the groceries, do the laundry, you know. Maintain their…kit," Luis coughed. "Anyway, the point is, you can't let things that don't affect each other color how you feel."

"Do I even _want_ to know what happened to Mindy?" Charlie asked.

"Well…mistakes were made," Luis shrugged. "But we both moved on, and you can too!"

"If I agree to go to the party, will _you_ agree to drop the Jeffrey Dahmer impersonation?"

"Heh, you bet."

A few rows back, Adam noticed that Julie had left her mother's massive novel behind, and he leapt at the opportunity that presented himself.

"No _War and Peace_ today, eh?"

"Heh, no," Julie replied. "It's getting tougher to read, to be honest. I really liked Heather, the main character, at first. Now she's getting on my nerves."

"Well, no sense in reading another seven hundred pages about somebody you can't stand."

"But I feel like I should cut Heather a bit of slack," Julie protested. "I mean, she's not evil. Just really ambitious."

"Isn't that the same thing in a woman?"

"It _is,"_ Julie agreed. "But it shouldn't be. I think that's why my mom decided to write about such a character. When a man wants all of the above, he's just being what a man should be. But when _a woman_ wants it all – career, family, education, fame, fortune – then she's evil.

"You know…yeah. I _should_ give Heather Jones another chance."

"But…you said it yourself, she's getting on your nerves," Adam protested.

"I was being small-minded," Julie countered. "Heather is a hero, and I should stick with her. I'm finishing that book, dammit," she then smiled. "Thanks, Adam."

"Oh, no need to thank me," his voice oozing with self-disgust.

"Well, I _want to_ ," she kissed him on the cheek. "I'm so lucky to have such a smart and sensitive boyfriend," she added before nestling the side of her face against his chest.

"Yeah, I'm a regular genius," Adam smiled through gritted teeth.

* * *

After the short drive to St. Paul, the Ducks arrived at the home ice of the Highland Park Scots. It was the home opener for the red-clad Scots, and they were eager to make a statement, having lost to their division rival Ducks twice the previous year. In a division that was stacked with talent from top to bottom, observers knew that the Ducks and the Scots would be seeing a lot of each other, and their encounters would not be a family picnic.

Unless food fights were part of the festivities.

Adam could scarcely hear himself think as the first lines got into position ahead of the opening faceoff. Despite red being their school color, the Highland Park faithful took their Celtic warrior roots seriously, and many a Scots fan wore blue face paint and screamed like banshees.

 _No worries. Every Scot needs their Longshanks,_ Adam grinned malevolently.

"What are you so happy about, Banks?"

Adam looked at his opposite, Drew Duncan, and laughed. "Just the sight of your face, Drew."

Charlie observed the spectacle in stunned silence. _Banks is really getting into this instigator thing, isn't he?_

"Enough chatter, gentlemen," the ref spoke up. "I want a good, clean game."

And with that, the puck dropped and Highland Park won the faceoff. The Scot center passed back to Duncan, who was mauled instantly by Adam. Retrieving the loose puck, Charlie made his way to the offensive zone, and passed back to Fulton on the point.

Fulton made his defender fish for the puck with some elaborate dribbles before drawing back and firing. As the puck struck the goalpost, the skaters went shrapnel in anticipation of a deadly ricochet, but the puck bounced harmlessly out of play and the ref blew his whistle.

When play resumed, Guy won the faceoff , then passed it to Adam along the boards. Duncan eagerly returned Adam's aggression and pounded the new winger against the glass. The two forwards battled and hacked at the puck for an eternity as Ducks and Scots crowded around the pair in anticipation of a loose puck.

Mato Martin's patience and positioning paid off when the puck finally came loose. Distancing himself from both the scrum and the crowd around it, the new Duck defenseman had an open scoring lane, and promptly took advantage.

1-0, Ducks.

Spirits were high as the Duck second line relieved the first. The first line had scored on its opening shift, and had succeeded in keeping the puck nowhere near Greg Goldberg. But the smaller second line, consisting of Connie, Dwayne, and Ken, struggled to keep the puck out of their own zone; and as Adam observed Portman overcompensate with aggressive defense, Adam felt a growing sense of dread.

His fears were realized when the whistle blew and the ref called Portman for tripping.

 _Great. A power play._

Now with the man advantage, Highland Park won the faceoff and swarmed in front of Goldberg's net. Russ Tyler, the Ducks' lone defenseman, did his best to take up as much space in front of the net as he could, but Adam cursed the Californian's weight loss as the puck flew by him on a rebound and toward Goldberg.

But Goldberg hacked the puck away, preventing disaster, but only for another two seconds.

A Scot secured the next rebound and fired a bullet past Goldberg, tying the game at 1-apiece.

"It's almost like he's allergic to his glove," Adam mumbled from the bench.

As Portman left the penalty box, he pounded his chest and looked toward the Duck bench, as if to say _Sorry, that one's on me._

The third line slowed the game down, as the grinders on both teams smacked each other around on the boards; but none of the resulting power plays led to any goals.

Back on the ice for their second shift, the Duck first line of Adam, Charlie, and Guy confounded the Scots with their puck movement, reminding Charlie of Adam and Guy's dynamic run during the Pee Wee playoffs all those years earlier. When Adam had left the Hawks, he had broken up the Oreo Line consisting of Guy and the Hall brothers.

Despite – or perhaps, because of – Adam's effortless hockey connection with Guy, the former Hawk had earned the enmity of Jesse Hall.

Now, Charlie saw some of that same old magic as Adam and Guy sailed the puck between each other, and Guy set Adam up for a goal.

2-1, Ducks.

"Nice one, guys!" Charlie congratulated his linemates as the trio embraced.

Adam then led the line down the Duck bench for fist bumps, and was struck by the look on Julie's face as he reached her at the end of the line. It was a look of pure happiness, the look that made him fall in love with her in the first place. And he could not for the life of him remember when he had last seen that look.

It nearly took his breath away.

"Yeah, yeah," Charlie threw a light elbow into Adam's ribs. "You got a girlfriend, good for you."

Adam snapped out of his trance. "Sorry."

"Hey, don't worry about it. Now c'mon, let's get another one!" Charlie nodded toward the scoreboard.

Play resumed, and Charlie found himself in total control of the puck. Try as his Highland Park opposite did, the Scot was unable to steal the puck away from the Duck centerman. The Duck attack sent a wave of panic through the Scots' bench as Charlie took their defense apart with surgical precision and set up Adam and Guy for a series of terrifyingly close shots that would have given Eden Hall a 2-goal lead were it not for the heroics of Highland Park's goalie.

Taking back the puck on the faceoff, Charlie blasted one that landed square in the chest of the Scots' goalie. The goalie then threw himself on top of the loose puck to prevent any rebounds.

After another faceoff, the Scots finally took control of the puck and sent it down along the boards into the Ducks' zone, allowing the gassed first lines of both teams to finally take a breather.

As Charlie took his seat on the bench, he looked away from Orion, expecting a reprimand over his last shot attempt.

"Nice game management, Conway," Orion beamed instead. "You've got those guys on their heels. They're lucky we're not up by five right now."

"Thanks, Coach."

"Yeah, you really got this man," Guy offered. "We _would_ be up by five if their goalie wasn't Optimus Prime."

"He _is_ good, isn't he?" Julie agreed.

Adam smiled and tapped his helmet. "It's all up here. Notice how he never shifts? Instead, he keeps his head on a swivel, that way he can keep his body flat in the net. He's able to take up a lot of real estate that way. Especially when we take direct shots at him.

"But if we can attack him from the corners?" Adam grinned mischievously.

"Let's do it," Charlie agreed.

After scoreless shifts from the second and third lines, the first line returned to the ice. With Adam and Guy in position along the boards, Charlie barreled into the Scots' zone and drew a doubleteam. As Charlie absorbed the extra coverage, he passed to Adam, who in turn fired a bullet through the open lane and into the far corner of the net.

3-1, Ducks, as the 1st period drew to a close.

But the Scots were a wily and resilient bunch. They used the intermission to make a series of adjustments on defense, boxing out the Duck perimeter shots and holding Eden Hall to a scoreless 2nd period. And a Highland Park goal cut the Duck lead to 1 as the final period began.

Having fixed his defense during the first intermission, the Scots' head coach fixed his offense during the second; and the Scots' series of attacks set the Ducks back on their heels. With just two minutes remaining in regulation, a sense of desperation took hold over the Ducks, despite their 1-goal lead. Their 1st period dominance felt like another game from another year. Now, they were clinging to an ancient lead against a cunning enemy.

Adam could not remember the last time he was so desperate for a game to end. Neither, for that matter, could Ted Orion.

"Once more, unto the breach," Orion ordered his first line back to the ice.

The first line's short rest had done nothing to help them recover their stamina or their spirit, and as a Highland Park forward sent the puck through the Duck net on a rebound, Julie Gaffney seethed.

 _Use. The damn. Gloooove!_

The game-tying goal also lit a fire under Adam Banks, and he threw all of his natural caution to the wind, playing with a desperate and reckless abandon.

 _What the hell is he doing?_ Orion wondered. "Back, Banks! Back!"

But Adam launched a rocket, and in his haste, sent it wide of the net – prompting an icing call.

Orion ran a hand from his forehead down his face as the puck returned to the Ducks' zone.

"Keep it covered!" He barked. But he knew that his first line would go for the kill rather than play it safe, and he braced himself for the result.

Charlie stole the puck away from a Scot forward and passed to Adam. As a pair of Highland Park defenders bore down on Adam, he scanned the ice for the open Duck, but when he found Guy, Adam realized that he had held on to the puck too long.

The puck deflected and found its way to a Scot defenseman who had moved to the point. It happened in the blink of an eye, but Adam swore that he saw the entire thing in slow motion. The long, luxurious drawing of the stick that taunted Adam with its easy and relaxed movement. The gradual descent of the stick toward the puck, and the dreadful crack of the stick smashing into rubber and sending the disc into an arc of death.

The goal horn sounded, and the home crowd erupted as the Scots took the lead with only seconds remaining. Despite all of the celebratory noise, Adam could hear his knees land on the ice with a thud.

"Banks, get up!" Charlie implored, looping his arm around Adam. "Jesus you've gotten heavy."

Guy joined his linemates and helped Charlie steady Adam.

"I fucked up," Adam declared.

"We can get it back, Banks, there's still time!" Charlie insisted.

"Goldberg!" Orion hollered. "You're out! Robertson, get in there – be our sixth man."

Dwayne vaulted over the wall and onto the ice as Goldberg made his way to the bench. Now with an empty net, the Ducks hoped to tie the game back up and send it into overtime, but it was to no avail. Instead, the Scots gifted the Ducks with an empty net goal, just to show their rivals how much they cared.

* * *

"Turn here," Luis instructed Charlie from the passenger seat.

"Remember that little talk we had on the bus?" Charlie asked. "You know, the one about me not being in the mood to party if we lose? Well guess what the crystal ball says."

"Come on, Charlie," Guy chimed in from the back. "It'll be good to get your mind off things. And I'm not just talking about the game."

"I know that," Charlie shot back. "But I think I'm gonna limit my role in this to being the designated driver."

"Really?" Portman asked, further back. "I only brought the lite stuff. Can't get drunk on it."

"You can get drunk on _anything_ with enough of it," Charlie pointed out. "And I meant more along the lines of not partying at all."

Portman shrugged as he cracked open a can of Miller Lite. "Suit yourself."

"Hey, don't start without me!" Fulton protested before accepting a can of beer.

"Oh for fuck sake," Charlie grumbled. "Do open container laws mean _nothing_ to you people?"

"Then don't fuckin' get pulled over," Portman advised.

"Thanks for the advice."

"Any time."

"Hey, beer me," Kyle Gibson said.

Portman handed a can to his new defensive partner. Fulton would always be Portman's best friend, especially after surviving the drama of sophomore year, but Portman acknowledged to himself that he enjoyed being the senior partner in his new hockey pairing. Fulton's skill on offense and his ranking as alternate captain made whoever paired with him "the Assistant," a title that the tough kid from Chicago did not relish.

"And anyway," Portman said, "We're riding with you and not Banks because you're less uptight. So chill."

"I'm pretty sure you're riding with Conway because Julie is riding with Adam," Guy pointed out. "And she would make you drink the entire case of beer so you'd throw up and never touch the stuff again."

But Portman laughed, rather than be offended. "You're probably right, man."

Among the group of non-Minnesota Ducks at the Goodwill Games, Julie had been like a mother hen; and Portman imagined that her relationship with Adam played to her more uptight instincts.

 _I bet I'd get her to loosen up though,_ he smiled roguishly.

"Here we are!" Luis announced.

But Charlie could tell from the long row of cars lined up on the side of the street that they had arrived. So many cars were parked, Charlie had to drive another block before he could find a place for his Suburban.

"Well, with this kinda turnout, it won't be long before the cops show up," he speculated.

"Thanks, Captain Buzzkill," Portman belched before crushing his empty beer can. "Let's go, gents."

Charlie remained seated as the rest of his teammates exited his car and began making their way to the party.

"Call me when you're ready to head back!" He called out to his friends, who acknowledged him with distant murmurs and thumbs up.

He was about to back up and turn into the street when he saw a green Range Rover pull in behind him. _Heh, Banksie is gonna make this interesting._ But rather than risk being seen bumping into the expensive SUV, Charlie decided to wait until Adam and his passengers had disappeared.

The Duck captain looked into his rearview mirror and observed them get out of the Range Rover. The group had taken advantage of the unseasonably warm weather that weekend, and they each to a man – and woman – wore shorts and short sleeves. Besides Adam and Julie, Ken and his new girlfriend Beth were present. Connie was the odd person out.

Charlie felt a slight kick of adrenaline as he noticed Connie. As he steadied himself, he jumped when he heard a tapping at the glass on his driver's side window. He turned and saw Julie Gaffney beaming at him. Returning her smile, he rolled down the window.

"I wasn't speeding, was I, officer?"

"You absolutely were."

Charlie looked startled. "Really?"

"How else could this giant tank of yours beat Adam's Range Rover?" She demanded playfully.

"Because it's Adam. Do you really need to ask?"

"Very funny, Conway," Adam joined them, wrapping an arm around Julie's waist.

"I remember one time," Charlie began "And this is the honest-to-God truth. I was riding shotgun with Banks when this beat-up old station wagon climbed up his ass."

"Obnoxious tailgaters," Adam huffed.

"Anyway," Charlie continued. "After about five minutes of going Adam's speed, they couldn't take any more, so they decided to pass us. As the station wagon got along side us, that's when we saw the habits."

"Habits?" Julie asked.

"Nuns, Julie," Adam sighed.

"Yep," Charlie laughed. "The Cake Eater got passed by a station wagon full of nuns."

With Connie, Ken, and Beth having joined them, the group enjoyed a good laugh at Adam's expense. But the burly forward took it in stride.

"So I guess that means you can tear up that ticket for Charlie there."

"I guess so," Julie giggled. "So what are you doing out here, Charlie? Aren't you going to the party?"

"Nah, I'm not really into it."

"Me neither," Connie agreed. "I'm only here to keep an eye on Guy."

"Don't trust him, eh?" Charlie grinned, but was chastened by Connie's glare. "Sorry."

"That's okay."

Charlie then turned to Ken. "I don't think I've met your new friend," he looked to Beth. "Charlie Conway."

"Beth Lapinski," the slight, brown-haired girl grinned, displaying a mouth full of metal.

Charlie sensed a reluctance from the girl to release his hand, but he managed to recover it. Ken noticed the long handshake too.

"We should get going," the shorter boy said.

"Yeah, later – Conway," Adam waved goodbye before grasping Julie's hand and leading her to the party.

Ken all but shoved Beth away from Charlie, and the pair soon disappeared behind a row of cars. Charlie was startled to see that Connie was still standing outside his window.

"Uh…can I help you, Connie?"

"I need a plus one."

" _Excuse_ me?"

"Charlie, two couples are about to walk into that house. I can't go in there alone, like a loser."

"Ah," Charlie nodded, unfastening his seatbelt. "Well, if you can handle being Adam's pretend date, I'm sure you can handle being mine."

Connie giggled at the memory. "Poor Cake Eater. But it worked out for him in the end. Still, it was rather thoughtless of Julie insisting that he tag along on her date with another boy."

"Yeah," Charlie got out and locked the car door behind him. "And what a little douchebag _that_ guy was."

"Tim Riley," Connie scrunched her face. "Just saying his name makes me want to take a shower."

"And how was Adam, that night? Was he a good date?"

"Of course he was. Or at least as good as he could have been, given the circumstances. He gave me his coat, got my chair at the restaurant, and didn't call me insane when I made up all that stuff about Mike Modano to get him to look away from Julie and Tim."

"Like what?" Charlie grinned, leading Connie into the street. "I don't think I heard this part of the story."

"Oh, that Mo was on the trading block," Connie explained. "And that his stock had fallen because of a shark attack that robbed him of his leg, you know – the usual."

Charlie laughed. "Wow, I bet even Mo would go for peanuts in that scenario."

"That's what I said!" Connie said. "Only I added that the Red Wings had an edge in the bidding war because they threw in a bag of cashews as well."

"And that _still_ didn't get Adam's attention?"

Connie frowned. "The poor guy was in love."

"Well, that won't be an issue with me, I promise you."

But it was more a promise to himself, and Charlie knew it. Not only was Connie prettier than he noticed before, but as her Adam story reminded him, she was funny and had a heart of gold. The two old D5ers walked in silence for the remainder of the journey.

When they were ushered in, they offered big smiles for their host and anyone who cared to observe them. Of course it had all been for show, Connie reasoned, but she couldn't ignore the quiet voice in her head telling her that this was right.


End file.
